The Merchandise
by swifters
Summary: The Hardy brothers go on a hiking holiday in Scotland. What could possibly go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

A mystery set in Scotland. The first longer story I ever wrote, dug out of a musty hole in my hard drive. Takes place a few months after Iola was killed and I monkeyed around with the timeline a bit- they are 18/19 but Joe isn't going out with Vanessa properly yet (purely because I think they've already done enough in their 17/18 year!). More story than whump just for a change….. OK, there is still a touch of whump but it's largely incidental…

One thing I don't like about this story now is that I took the easy route of making Callie a bit of a bad guy. I actually like her so sorry, Callie. I never did it again. I think.

Warnings- drugs, beer drinking, swearing (not much by the boys though), poetic licence on geographical location of a castle. No Nancy Drew.

Please be nice- I quite like bits of this...

This one is for max2013- brotherhood issues as requested!

CHAPTER 1- DIFFERENT PATHS

Joe Hardy walked briskly towards his car. The blond-haired 18 year old had a smirk on his handsome face. He had just left his 19 year old brother, Frank, alone in their family home with his girlfriend, Callie Shaw. Callie had Frank pinned up against the wall of the hall, just inside the front door, and was kissing him passionately.

The brothers were due to fly out of the country the following day and would be away for about 6 weeks. They were heading to Scotland to join their father, Fenton Hardy, who was attending a criminology conference in Edinburgh with some of the finest minds in the field. But instead of joining him for the lectures, the boys had decided to hit the trail first and go hiking in the Scottish Highlands for a week. It had been a tough year and they were both sorely in need of a real break.

Callie was obviously going to miss Frank, judging by the way she had thrown herself at him as soon as she came through the front door! Joe had beaten a hasty retreat into the kitchen and out through the back door, giving his brother the thumbs up on his way. Callie was a pretty girl. A bit serious maybe, but so was Frank- they were perfect for each other! Smiling broadly and wondering just how lucky Frank was going to get, Joe put his hand into his jeans pocket, looking for the car keys.

'Aw, crap!' he exclaimed, suddenly remembering he'd left them on the kitchen table.

He crept back though the sunny garden to the back door, opening it quietly so he didn't disturb the young lovers. The kissing noises had moved from the hall into the livingroom. Joe wrinkled up his nose in disgust, then grinned mischievously, wondering if their mother would be home from her meal out with friends early enough to catch them at it. Joe picked up his keys and was about to creep back out again when he overheard something that made his jaw drop.

'Callie, I'm sorry! It's just marriage is such a huge step!'

Had Callie proposed? No way! Joe started towards the door, not wanting to eavesdrop and figuring Frank would fill him in when he got back anyway. The he heard something that made him stop in his tracks.

'It's not a step that used to worry you! We used to talk about it all the time! This is about Joe, isn't it! Since Iola died he's been so over-dependant on you it's like you're his dad not his brother! You'd think he was the only one affected! I need you too, you know.' Callie sounded angry. Then her voice softened. 'Remember how we used to talk about going to college together, getting married, having kids?'

'I know Callie, but we _were_ kids then! It's just too soon. Things have changed. Maybe in time those things will happen. But….well, right now Joe needs me. You know he still blames himself! He really went off the rails. He's only just started to get it back together.'

'Frank, I'm not trying to cause trouble. And I love him too, he's a good friend. But how are you either of you going to have a normal life when you're running about worrying about him all the time? He's a big boy. Let him look after himself! Live your own life. You can't deny it's been hard for you, having to take care of him all the time.'

Joe held his breath.

Frank's hesitant reply came after a moment's silence. His voice was quiet but his words unmistakeable. And Joe felt them like a blow to his gut. 'Well…no it's not been easy. But….'

Calllie cut in. 'So it's hard for you. And what are you going to do now we've graduated? Are you going to limit your choices in life to whatever he wants to do just so you're there for him all the time?'

'I don't know Callie. I need to talk to him, find out what he wants to do. I'm sure I'll get the chance while we're away. But like it or not, whatever we all want out of life, while he still needs me around I'm going to be around for him. OK?'

'So if Joe decides he's going to Yale, or joining the bloody Network, or whatever other crazy whim he has, you'll go too. And if I want to be with you, I have to follow him as well?! Is that how it is? Frank, I don't want to feel like I'm competing with him for your attention our whole lives. It was fine before Iola died, when the four of us went out together. That was great! But now it's awkward if Joe comes and, if he doesn't come, all you do is worry about him. I've had enough! I don't know if I want to stay with you if this doesn't change.'

'Callie, stop. I do _not _want to fight and I don't want you to give me an ultimatum just before I go away. I do love you but you're not being fair. Joe's my little brother for goodness sake, I _have_ to look after him! Can we not just….kiss.' The kissing noises started again.

Joe had heard enough. He walked silently back out of the house, got in his car and sat heavily in the driver's seat, head spinning. Tears pricked his eyes for a second, but he blinked them back. Frank hadn't said anything unfair. Neither had Callie. Well, maybe a bit. But she had a point. He still felt hurt, like some sort of charity case. He needed to think.

…..

Joe drove to Lover's Lookout- a parking area at the top of a cliff on the outskirts of Bayport. It had an amazing view out over Barmet Bay. He and his girlfriend, Iola Morton, had parked up there often. They made out, laughed and planned for their future. But it had been stolen from them.

Joe gazed out to sea, face expressionless, spirit in turmoil. He thought of Iola. Pretty, sweet, always laughing. Soft and warm.

Then, 6 months ago, she'd been murdered. Blown up by 'The Assassins', a merciless group of terrorists. Joe had felt guilty, angry and grief-stricken. After he and his brother had helped bring Al-Rousasa, the man responsible for planting the bomb, to justice, Joe had floundered and was overcome by a dark depression. Frank had been there for him through it all. A shoulder to cry on, someone to shout at when he needed to shout, someone to pull him back when he felt himself going over the edge.

And Joe had been feeling better, more like himself, over the last couple of months. Not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but the fact he was still alive no longer physically hurt. He'd even had a few dates with a beautiful girl, Vanessa Bender. He really liked her, but it still felt wrong- a little like he was cheating on Iola. Frank had told him it was understandable, it would just take time.

Joe fingered the long scar on his left palm- a parting gift from the knife of Al-Rousasa just before he met his maker. Now had a whole new issue to worry about. One that had snuck up on him without warning. He had taken Frank's support for granted, he realised, without appreciating the strain it had put on him. Now he knew better- he'd heard it from the horse's mouth. Frank was finding it hard, being around to help him. He was putting his life on hold until Joe was doing better. He felt he _had _to look after Joe. It was touching, but it was wrong. How had he not picked up on it? He realised he hadn't been fair on Frank. Drawing a shaky breath, he resolved to redress the balance.

He knew they had big decisions to make now school was over. They had both done well academically, particularly Frank. Between that and the incredible success they had enjoyed through the years as amateur detectives, they found themselves with several attractive options on the table. They had offers of scholarships to the same good colleges and their father had offered to fund their studies if there was somewhere else they wanted to go. He had also told them he would gladly take them into partnership in his private detective business instead, or after their studies. The wildcard option came from The Network, a government agency they had worked with in connection with Iola's murder. They had offered to recruit them and train them up as undercover operatives. All of the options had their attractions and the brothers had yet to sit down and discuss what they really wanted to do.

For some reason, it hadn't occurred before to Joe that going their separate ways was a realistic prospect. Joe already knew what he wanted to do. He'd known for as long as he could remember. He wanted to be a detective. He wanted to go to college first to study something that would contribute to their work. But he wanted to do it all with Frank- his best friend and partner in crime-fighting. He had never even stopped to think that Frank might want to do something different.

But now he knew if he and Frank had an 'honest' talk about their future, if Frank said he wanted to take the same road in life as Joe, he would always wonder if it was because he felt he had to, not because he wanted to.

Joe knew what he had to do. He owed it to his brother, who had done so much for him, to free him of the burden of caring for him. He had to push Frank away, make his excuses and follow a different road in life. It wouldn't matter what it was. Joe knew he would have to take the initiative and be strong. He would tell Frank he wanted to move on by himself and end their partnership, live somewhere else. He would take himself completely out of the equation so Frank would be able to go ahead and live his life however he saw fit without feeling he had to look after his brother anymore. He could marry Callie, go off to college, work with their father. Anything.

Joe would go it alone.


	2. Chapter 2

_CHAPTER 2- A CHANGE OF SCENERY_

Frank was breathing hard, his leg muscles burning, trying to keep up with Joe as they ascended the mountain. Frank, at 6 foot 1, was an inch taller than his brother and just as fit as him, if a little less muscular around the chest and shoulders, but Joe was stretching him. He was setting a blistering pace, running up all but the trickiest sections of the climb. This wasn't the relaxing hike Frank had had in mind at all!

The boys had been in Scotland for three days now. They had spent two days in Edinburgh, the country's capital city, with their father, doing the obligatory touristy things. Frank had loved it, especially the castle and the old section of the town leading up to it. The narrow, cobbled streets wound up and down, to and fro across the slope leading up to the back of the rocky crag the castle clung to. The architecture seemed trapped in time- a stark contrast to the vibrant contemporary culture of the area.

Joe appeared to have appreciated it too, although he wasn't saying much. He seemed down again. Distant, distracted and introverted. But, then again, his mood still tended to nosedive if he wasn't busy- it could be that the hanging about between flights while they were travelling hadn't helped. It perhaps wasn't surprising Joe was treating their hike as some sort of military training challenge. For all he was getting better, he was still a hundred miles from being the exhuberant, care-free youth with the quick sense of humour that had been Frank's best friend for so many years. He would give anything to see Joe smile again, the way he used to.

Frank had been feeling pretty grumpy himself since his argument with Callie. They hadn't parted on good terms. The argument had flared up again, despite Frank's best efforts to distract her. She had shouted. He had shouted. She had finished with the inevitable 'It's him or me' ultimatum, then marched out of the house.

He did love her but she could be selfish at times. There was no way he was going to set up house with her- they were only 19! And the idea of having to drop Joe to stay with her was absurd. He hoped she would see how unreasonable she was being while they were away, otherwise it could be the end for Frank and Callie. He did need to pin Joe down to talk about their plans for the future though. Tonight, their first night together under canvas, seemed like a golden opportunity. He would feel happier when he knew where they were going in life.

Looking ahead up the rocky path, he saw Joe. He'd reached the summit of the mountain, which was marked by a small pile of stones called a cairn. He was standing stock still, looking away from Frank. Frank pushed himself into a last burst of speed and caught up with him.

Joe turned, shooting him a lop-sided smile. 'Took you long enough, Grandad!'

'It's not a race, Joe, what's the hurry! We're meant to be on holiday!' Frank panted, glowering at his brother.

Frank stepped alongside Joe and his bad mood evaporated. They stood together in silence, appreciating the view. The scenery was extraordinary. Rolling hills and jagged peaks, interspersed with ribbon-like lochs in deep valleys, stretched as far as they could see. The hillsides were streaked with purple. The heather that covered them was beginning to come into flower and seemed to glow in the bright sunlight. It was beautiful. The ruins of deserted settlements, telling tales of crofting families uprooted from their homes back through the mists of time, were dotted around the landscape lending it an almost eerie atmosphere.

They were standing on the highest point of the Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan in the North West Highlands of Scotland. The boys hadn't attempted to pronounce the Gaelic name, but apparently it meant 'Peak of the Four Quarters'. It had been recommended to them as a great place to head to as part of their week-long hike through the Highlands.

Inhaling the crystal clear air, Frank felt himself relax. He smiled, turning to his younger brother. 'Come on Joe, let's get going. If we hurry, we should to make it to Castle Sinclair before the weather breaks.' Rain and wind were forecast for a few hours that night- not for long enough to have put the boys off their trip, but they would be better to be safely ensconced in their tent before it started.

Joe nodded. He set off down the other side of the mountain at a steady jog, this time heading westwards, towards the sea. Frank rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his dark hair, then pulled out his map to double check they were heading the right way.

The boys had decided to spend the night near a ruined castle sited on a low cliff by the sea. Frank in particular had a real fascination with historical monuments, which Scotland was abound with. Having seen a picture of Castle Sinclair on a website, he had decided it was a must. Smiling in anticipation, he folded his map back up and set off after Joe.

….

It was twilight by the time the brothers reached the castle.

The dark, brooding ruin seemed to hang over the edge of the narrow cliff promontory, defying gravity. The land it was on was almost an island, jutting out into the sea, but a narrow stretch of ground joined it to the mainland on one side. The remainder of its circumference was defined by high cliffs, the sea crashing around their base. A stone gatehouse was built across the narrow land bridge, controlling the only point of access. It towered in to the sky, as if daring them to try to enter. Yawning holes in the walls of the main castle building behind it spoke of six hundred years of relentless attack by the elements. What stories the place could tell of the lives that had begun and ended here!

Joe seemed impressed. 'Wow. It's kinda spooky isn't it! Do you think it's haunted….?' He said, almost able to believe it could be.

Frank smiled. 'I wouldn't have thought so. Although it is meant to be. Supposedly it has a Grey Lady and a Green Man.'

'Not that surprising. It's got some atmosphere!'

The boys walked down to the cliff edge, looking up at the castle. They spotted a narrow path just before the castle entrance. It was cut into the cliff and lead down to a small, sandy beach below. Joe turned and scrambled down it, hoping to find an angle from which they could see more of the ancient building. A skeletal pier ran across the beach from the foreshore out to sea, only the timber uprights surviving. It added to the ghostly feel of the place. Joe wondered if the pier as old as the castle. Had the inhabitants set sail to fish and fight from here?

The two brothers walked to the edge of the sea. The tide was quite far out and they found could make out the most of the length of the castle.

'It's huge! It must have been quite a sight when it was all standing. You wouldn't attack that in a hurry would you!' said Joe.

'Yeah.' Frank nodded, lost in thought. He shook himself. 'Anyway, it's getting a bit dark for exploring. We better get the tent pitched and well tied down before the weather changes. We can look round tomorrow. Okay?'

Joe agreed, butterflies suddenly materialising in his stomach. Ever since he made his life-changing decision, he had avoided talking to Frank. He was still sure he was doing the right thing, but he was going to miss Frank immeasurably. The idea of going it alone made him feel hollow. Not scared, just like something vital would be missing. He was dreading having that conversation. There would be no going back.

So, while they were travelling he'd stuck in his headphones and listened to music, or feigned sleep. Today he'd marched ahead of Frank. But tonight…..conversation would be unavoidable. He prayed that the subject of their future just wouldn't come up. He didn't want to spoil their holiday by announcing he wanted to end their partnership. He wanted to wait until they were on their way home, so he could make the most of his last few weeks with Frank. But it was a subject that would probably be high on Frank's agenda. He hoped vehemently that Frank would take his decision well and not as a rejection. Maybe he would even be pleased!

The boys picked out a sheltered spot for their tent, nestled in a hollow on a steep slope overlooking the castle. They built a small campfire and cooked up some sausages.

'Reminds me of when we were kids. I can't remember the last time we did this kind of thing!' Frank remarked.

'Yes. One difference though.' Said Joe, pulling two bottles of beer out of his rucksack with a grin and passing one to Frank.

The boys sat round their campfire as darkness drew in, talking about safe things- the places they had been and the cases they had tackled together. Joe started to relax, enjoying his brother's company. Then, out of a comfortable silence came the dreaded question. 'So, little brother, what are we going to do with ourselves now? We've had all these great offers. What should we go for?'

When Joe hadn't replied after a moment, Frank looked up, over the campfire at him.

Joe was gazing into the flames, a sad look on his handsome face.

'Joe? You okay?'

Joe shook himself and smiled weakly.

'Sure, sorry, I was miles away. Yeah, lots of options. What about you and Callie, though? You thinking you might, I don't know, move in with her or something? She's a great girl!'

Frank frowned, puzzled at the change of subject. 'Well, no. Actually…..we had a bit of a fight before we left. I'm not sure if things are going to work out with us.'

Joe's face fell. He did _not_ want to be the reason for Frank and Callie splitting up. 'No, no, no Frank, no! Please no. She's so right for you. You've always said she was.'

'I know, but she gave me an ultimatum which I didn't appreciate.'

Joe didn't know what to say. He already knew what it was. He _so_ didn't want to talk about it. Not now. But there was no way around it. He would have to ask or he would seem uncaring, disinterested. He cleared his throat. 'Oh?'

'She wants me to move in with her. She wants us to go to college together. She….'

Joe cut in, plastering a big grin on his face. 'Sounds great, what's the problem? Go for it!'

'Joe, stop it. I've not finished. She thinks you and I should be doing something different. As in not together. She thinks…you're too dependent on me and it's not healthy. Isn't that crazy?'

Joe didn't answer for a moment. He looked down at his beer bottle. He wanted to say 'Yes, it's crazy, we're a team! We're fine, she's the one with the problem' and stay in his happy bubble, catching baddies with his beloved big brother till they were too old to chase them anymore.

But he knew he couldn't. He had a speech all prepared. He was meaning to sound happy and positive about the exciting independent future he had planned for himself. But this was Frank. Now it had come to the crunch he found he couldn't bring himself to lie like that.

'Joe?'

Joe's mouth opened and closed. He couldn't find the right words. Concerned, Frank stood up and moved around the fire, crouching by his brother. He reached over to put a hand on his shoulder. Joe raised his own hand and stopped him. 'Please don't, you'll just make this harder.'

Frank looked down at Joe's hand, then up at his tense face. Joe's blue eyes were avoiding his gaze. 'What? What's going on?'

'Maybe…..maybe she's right. I've decided. I…..I think we should go our separate ways. Doesn't need to be forever. Just, you know, do our own things for a few years. I thought I might take a couple of years out, go travelling by myself. Something like that. Give us both some space. I _have_ got way too dependent on you. And I really appreciate your support, don't get me wrong. But it's no good for either of us. It has to stop.'

Frank's jaw dropped. He had _not _seen this coming! 'What? But we're partners! You'd do the same for me! You're not over-dependent. You've just had a bad time, that's all.' His eyes narrowed. 'Joe, did Callie talk to you too?'

Joe still looked away from his brother. 'Callie? No. Why? Last time I saw her she was surgically attached to your lips. Anyway, it's important to me to get some independence. I'm not a kid.'

Frank didn't know what to think. He couldn't believe Joe was wanting to do this after everything they'd been through together! 'I never said you were! Joe, where did this come from? We've always wanted to do the detective thing together. Always! Since when have you wanted to go travelling? Where? Why?'

'I don't know…..to find myself?'

Frank raised an eyebrow. 'Find yourself? Seriously?'

'OK, that's bullshit.' Joe took a deep breath. He glanced at Frank's rich brown eyes. He saw the hurt and confusion in them and looked away hurriedly, over towards the castle. 'OK. Frank. I overheard you and Callie talking. Fighting. I didn't mean to, it just happened. I'm sorry.'

Frank processed the information and shut his eyes as he remembered the content of the conversation.

'I heard you say it's not easy being there for me all the time, that you feel you _have _to look out for me.' Joe said softly, trying to hide the hurt look in his eyes.

Frank shook his head, frowning in consternation. 'Joe, I'm so sorry. I know I said that, but... that's just not quite what I meant. I… I meant it's not easy seeing you suffer when life kicks you in the teeth yet again. Being there for you is the easiest thing in the world! I don't want to stop doing that! And maybe I do feel like it's my responsibility to look out for you. But that doesn't mean I don't want to do it!'

Joe wavered for a second, but then found his resolve. He had to do this. For Frank. 'Frank, you've been the best brother anyone ever had and I don't think I'd even be here today if it wasn't for you. But Callie had a point.'

'No she didn't, Joe! She was being petty and jealous.'

'Well, I think she had a point. And I think if I don't go off to do my own thing I'll always feel like I was holding you back from doing what you really wanted to.'

Frank's jaw dropped. 'Joe, that's bullshit!' he snapped. 'I'm always honest with you! Don't you think I'll tell you want I really want to do? Don't I get a say in this?'

Joe set his jaw, still determined he was doing the right thing. 'No. I'm sorry. My mind's made up, Frank.'

Frank shook his head in disbelief and stood up, putting his hands on his head. He turned away from his brother. 'Oh right, so that's it then. And when are you planning to take this….trip?'

'I'll leave as soon as we get home.'

Frank turned back. He knelt down again, trying to get Joe to make eye contact, but failing. 'Joe…this is crazy. Why can't we travel together? I'd be up for that if it's really what you want to do.'

Joe raised his voice in sudden exasperation. 'Frank, don't you see, that's the problem! I feel like you'll do _anything_ if you think it's what I want to do. What I want is for you to do is….. what _you_ actually want to do! The only way for me to _know_ that's happened is for me to get the hell away from you and let you get on with your life without having to worry about me.' He saw Frank opening his mouth to protest and shook his head. 'Please, there's nothing you can say. Don't make it harder.'

Joe stood up and walked away into the night, leaving his brother reeling.

He stared after Joe. 'What the hell just happened?' he murmured.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3- SOME GOOD OLD-FASHIONED SMUGGLERS…?

Frank lay awake in the tent, listening to the wind and rain battering the canvas. His mind was whirring at hundred miles an hour. Joe hadn't reappeared until Frank was already in his sleeping bag. Frank had feigned sleep, not wanting to say something he'd regret. He knew Joe_ thought_ he was doing the right thing, but he was way off! He couldn't believe Joe was meaning to cut him out of his life like that, after everything they had been through together! It hurt! He could have kicked himself for his choice of words when he was talking about Joe with Callie. But he couldn't help but feel increasingly angry with his brother for being so inflexible, for making such a huge decision without talking about it first.

Then a niggling though struck him….. could Joe and Callie be right? Wracking his brain, he tried to think of someone they knew who had a relationship with a sibling as strong as bond between the brothers. He came up empty. Could it be a bad thing? Had they grown too dependent on each other without even realising it? Maybe a year or two apart, doing their own thing, would do them both good. It just didn't feel right. Damn Joe and his stubborn nature!

And now Frank needed to pee. He groaned at the thought of facing the weather outside the tent. But it couldn't wait. Trying to move quietly so he didn't wake Joe, Frank prised himself out of his warm sleeping bag and put on his boots. He unzipped the tent, then froze.

Cutting through the blackness of the night was a light. A glow, coming from what had to be the top of the gatehouse in the castle. 'What the….' He murmured. He reached over and shook Joe. Joe sat up instantly. He hadn't been sleeping either.

'Joe, you're not going to believe this but….there's a light at the castle.'

Joe stared at him for a moment. 'No way! A light like a ghostly presence, or a light like smugglers from when we were kids?'

'Well, given I don't believe in ghosts…' said Frank. 'It could be nothing- it's probably just other hikers who arrived in the dark.'

Joe wriggled out of his sleeping bag and joined Frank at the tent flap. As they watched, the light flashed on and off, twice. It seemed to be pointing out to sea.

'Maybe not hikers then. Can we not go anywhere without running into mysteries?' mumbled Joe.

Frank glowered at him. The hurt from Joe's announcement was still fresh. 'So what do we do, Joe? Do we look into it? One last mystery before we go our separate ways?' He spat the last words out, he couldn't help it.

Joe glanced at him, stung by his tone. 'Yes, of course let's look into it. If someone's up to something illegal we have to stop them, don't we?'

'What about all the people who're going to get away with god knows what while you're away 'finding yourself?' Frank almost bit back the words but failed. Joe stared at him, openly hurt. Frank looked away, back out towards the light.

Then a second light flashed, out at sea. It had to be a boat. The light in the gatehouse tower flashed again, this time pointing inland. Then it went out. The boys pulled their binoculars out of their respective rucksacks and lay beside each other on their bellies, watching in silence.

The night was dark, the weather increasingly wild. What on earth was going on? They heard the noise of engines. The headlights of a group of four quad bikes, each pulling a small trailer, approached the castle gatehouse. A small light approached the shore, coming from the larger one out at sea. A dinghy perhaps, being sailed to inland and hauled up on the beach?

It was hard to make out what was going on from the flashes of activity revealed by headlights and torches. A line of five head torches descended from the quad bikes to the beach via the steep path. The figures then carried what appeared to be boxes up to the quad bikes, loading them the trailers attached behind them. The line of figures walked up and down several times, unloading boxes from the boat into the trailers.

The final load appeared to be more problematic. Two figures seemed to be struggling to drag it up the path, head torches moving erratically. A third figure approached the top of the path, shining a powerful torch down to assist them. The boys gasped. They weren't dragging a big box- it was a man! His hands were bound behind his back and he was struggling half-heartedly against his captors. He looked about 60 and was tall and thin. They got a fleeting glance at his lean face- he looked terrified.

He was dragged to a quad bike trailer and pushed down inside, then his ankles were tied together. The five figures then gathered together, apparently having a discussion. Their faces were illuminated by their head torches. Three of the figures faced the boys- two large men and one girl. Joe inhaled as he saw her. She was beautiful! She looked about his age. She was tall and slender. Long red hair hung down below her woolly hat, billowing in the wind. Then he stiffened and nudged Frank as he noticed light glinting off metal- at least two of the men were armed with rifles.

The group mounted their bikes and set off into the night. The light from the dinghy retreated back out to sea.

Frank turned to look at Joe. 'Right that man needs help. Let's do it. One last time before you disappear. Alright?' His tone was cold, leaving Joe in no doubt as to how much he had hurt him.

Joe clenched his teeth and nodded.

Frank pulled out his cellphone. There was no reception. They had been warned there were black spots in the hills and indeed they had been out of range for most of the day. 'Right. We'll have to follow them.' He said.

It was now virtually pitch black outside and the storm was beginning to take hold. Trekking into the night didn't seem the most sensible thing to do. But they had no choice- who knew what the men has in store for their prisoner. They had to follow them, help if they could and hopefully find a means of calling the police.

'Come on. Let's get the tent packed up. We'll need to let them get ahead a bit so we can use our torches without being seen anyway. We can follow their tracks.' Frank instructed. Joe began to do as he said without comment. Then both boys froze as they heard a rifle being cocked behind them! The boys swung round, Joe pointing his torch in the direction of the noise. Their faces fell when they saw three large men on the slope behind them. They were armed with rifles and the rifles were pointed at them.

Joe turned, looking for an escape route. He was blinded by a powerful torch being shone in his face from downslope. They were surrounded!

'Did you think we hadn't noticed you setting up camp to spy on us? Who are you?' a deep voice shouted from behind the torch. The voice had the soft lilt of a Scottish Highland accent, but there was blatantly nothing soft about the mens' intentions.

Frank turned, blinking at the intensity of the light. 'We're just hikers. Please don't hurt us!' he made his voice quake a little, to try to make the act more convincing.

'What do you know about the merchandise?' growled the booming voice.

'Nothing, we don't know what you're talking about.'

'Bad luck then, boys.' said a booming voice from behind them.

Frank turned to glance at Joe, checking he was thinking the same thing. Joe nodded.

As one the boys launched themselves towards the torch, knowing the men behind them couldn't fire without risking hitting the man who was holding it by mistake. They found themselves rolling down the hill with a mountain of a man, who roared in fury at their unexpected attack!

The man managed to halt his descent, grabbing onto an outcrop of rock with one hand and Joe's arm with the other. Joe jerked to a stop and immediately swung his free arm round, his fist aiming for where he thought the man's face should be. He made contact, hard, hearing a sickening crunch. He'd broken the guy's nose!

But the man didn't seem to feel it! He roared again, grabbing Joe's other arm. He turned him over as if he weighed nothing, then sat astride his chest, pinning him to the ground.

'Frank, run! Joe yelled, hoping his brother could get away under the cover of darkness, then he choked, gasping for air as a massive forearm pushed down on his windpipe. He tried to punch out at the man but could only muster an ineffective blow to the man's side. He started to see lights flashing in front of his eyes as his body screamed for oxygen.

Then suddenly the weight was off him! He gasped for breath, trying to focus again to see where his adversary was. He didn't have to look far- the man was lying beside him groaning. He saw Frank in front of him, still in karate stance.

'Come on!' Frank grabbed Joe's arm and hauled him to his feet. He turned to run downhill again but froze. The three men with rifles had caught them up. Suddenly, they were caught in the light of three torch beams.

'You alright, James?' said one of the riflemen, apparently addressing the man on the deck.

The enormous man pushed himself to his feet, blood dripping from his nose. The boys could finally see his face. He was middle-aged, with unkempt dark, greying hair and a short beard. His thick neck stemmed from huge shoulders and his hands looked like clubs. He must have been 6ft6 tall and his muscles bulged through his clothes.

He strode over to Joe, who had sunk back down to his knees, still dizzy after the attack. Face screwed up in anger, the man drew his right hand back over his left shoulder, then swung it around, striking out at Joe. The vicious back-hander knocked him stone cold and he flopped bonelessly onto the heather.

'No!' yelled Frank.

Wordlessly, the man walked over to him. Frank dropped into a defensive stance, ready to fight. Then man smiled. Frank dropped too, struck from behind by the butt of a rifle.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to max2013, Red Hardy and guest for the reviews! Please keep them coming.. Sorry max, not going to put it all on at once this time- I end up with hardly any reviews etc when I do it that way. I didn't think that would bother me but I've discovered it does! I imagine my Evil Writers Guild membership will be renewed now...

THE MERCHANDISE

CHAPTER 4- A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

Frank came round with a jolt as water splashed his face, making his eyes sting. He was cold. Very cold! Where was he?! He couldn't move! He shook his head, trying to clear his eyes. He could see nothing but darkness around him. He realised he must be tied to a post. He could feel freezing water rushing to and fro between his knees. The wind screamed around him and the rain lashed his face. A great crest of salt water hit him again, taking his breath away. He gasped for air. Where was Joe?!

Frank yelled with all the strength he could muster 'JOE! JOE!' Another wave struck him. He heard a noise to his left. Someone yelped in surprise, then spluttered on the water. 'Joe? Is that you?!' Frank shouted.

'Frank? What's going on?' came the frantic reply.

Frank's eyes were slowly becoming accustomed to the dark. He realised with horror where they were. 'The old pier! We're tied to the end posts! Joe, the tide must be coming in!' Frank glanced up above his head. He could see a line of seaweed on the wood marking the level the water reached at high tide. It was two feet above his head! 'We've got to get free, we'll drown!'

The boys both struggled frantically against their bonds, their uncooperative bodies numb with cold. They were tied tight to the upright posts, wrist, waist and chest. They couldn't loosen their bonds! The wind whipped around them, howling like a demented animal. The icy, storm-driven seas crashed against them, ever harder and higher!

'Frank? I can't get loose! You getting anywhere?' yelled Joe, fear clear in his voice.

'Not yet...' Frank gritted his teeth, renewing his efforts in vain. Terror gripped him. The water surrounded them. It was now above their waists when it ebbed and crashing over their heads as it came in. It was getting harder to draw breath between waves. Frank realised that, even if they could get free, they would surely be swept away in seconds by the sucking power of the tide. 'Joe…' Frank started to shout. He stopped. What could he say?

At that moment there was a flash of lightening followed immediately by the loud crash of thunder. A frightened 'neigh' made Frank and Joe jerk their heads towards land. The darkness revealed nothing. There was another flash of lightening. Straining to see behind him, Frank gasped. Just for a moment, illuminated by the flash, he saw a long-haired figure on a big black horse, plunging wildly through the sea towards them. 'It's her! It's that girl!'

Frank shook his head again and squeezed his stinging eyes shut, still disoriented and not quite able to believe the surreal image that was approaching them. But when his eyes opened she was still there- she was real! He could see her better as she got closer. The girl's expression was grim and determined, focused on her goal. The horse's eyes rolled in fear at the raging water around it, but it obeyed its mistress as she pushed it on towards them. She glanced at Frank but rode on around the end of the pier and past him, to Joe. She dropped her reins and leaned over, a knife in her hand. She sliced through his bonds, grasping his shirt collar tightly to keep him on his feet. 'Get up!' she shouted. Joe hauled himself onto the saddle behind the girl and clung on round her waist. She turned the horse and rode back past Frank, heading back for shore.

'No, what about Frank?!' yelled Joe.

'I'll come back. He can't carry three of us.' the girl shouted in return.

The girl rode to the beach. Joe slid off, landing on his knees on the sand, his legs too shaky to support him. He looked back anxiously towards the end of the pier. He could barely see the posts- the water was crashing right up and over them! 'Frank!' he yelled frantically.

The girl pushed the horse back into the sea. It was less willing this time, rearing up in the waves. The girl didn't seem to move, yet somehow she managed to force the animal onwards. A huge wave struck them. The horse lost its footing and went down beneath the water. 'No!' screamed Joe, jumping to his feet. Then he breathed again when the beast surged back up, its rider still in place. Joe held his breath as he lost sight of them beyond the breaking waves. Had they made it? Did she get to Frank before it was too late?

And there they were! Girl, horse and Frank, striving for land, buffeted to and fro by the wild water. Joe watched, helpless, heart beating at hundred miles an hour, as the trio fought against nature. He heard the girl shout to the horse, begging it to keep going.

And they made it! The horse broke into a canter as it hit the shallows, then slowed to a walk, flanks heaving. The girl rode over to Joe, then held Frank's arm as he slid off the horse. She let go. He fell to his knees trying to catch his breath. Joe knelt down beside him, automatically putting an arm around his shoulders, their falling-out momentarily irrelevant.

The girl looked down at them both through the darkness, her face expressionless, then she turned the horse away.

'Wait, please! Stop!' yelled Joe.

She stopped and turned around, eyes unreadable. The horse plunged around, excited, wanting to gallop away from that monstrous sea.

'You need to get away from here.' she shouted, in her soft Highland accent. 'He'll kill you. You can't stop him. Get away from here!'

Joe suddenly noticed a bruise on her cheek. He stood up and walked as close as he dared. 'Does he hurt you?' he said gently.

Just for a moment, the hard exterior vanished and her face became that of a vulnerable young girl. She looked lost.

'Please stop and talk to us. We won't hurt you. We might be able to help you.'

'I can't, I'm sorry. He'd kill me. You need to find shelter. You'll die if you stay out here, soaking wet.'

With that, she spun the horse round and galloped off up the cliff path into the night.

….

The boys fought their way through the storm back to the tent, soaking wet and shivering with cold. Their stuff has been ransacked. Their phones were gone, their wallets too. 'Great, they know who we are.' said Joe.

'It won't mean anything to them.' said Frank 'They won't know we're detectives. Sorry, I mean I am. I almost forgot you're giving it up.'

Joe didn't react. He bit his lip, disappointed and a little surprised that their narrow escape hadn't mellowed Frank's attitude towards him at all. He dug around looking for dry clothes and waterproofs for them both, then began to get changed. 'Come on, let's get going,' he said as he pulled his soaking boots back on.

Frank looked doubtful. 'I'm not sure now Joe. The weather's due to improve in about an hour. Maybe we should wait. We've both had a smack on the head and got bloody soaked in the sea. We'd be stupid to go after them now. We should stay here and try to get warmed up. We won't be able to do much if we end up with hypothermia.'

Joe looked at him, jaw stuck out mutinously. 'Fine. You wait here. I'll go be stupid by myself.' He began to pack up what was left of his belongings into his rucksack.

'Joe, please, I'm only trying to...'

'Look out for me?' Joe finished for him. 'Don't strain yourself. I'm only trying to look out for that guy. I think he's in a bit more need than I am.'

Joe crawled out of the tent, dragging his rucksack behind him.

'Ok, wait. Fine. Fine we'll get after them' said Frank, shaking his head in disapproval.

Joe looked at him, absorbing the gesture. He turned away, concentrating on packing up the tent. He had so hoped they would part on good terms. It looked like that wasn't going to happen.


	5. Chapter 5

OK, here's another chapter. This drawn-out posting malarkey is making me way too tense!

THE MERCHANDISE

CHAPTER 5- UNFRIENDLY NATIVES

Frank and Joe Hardy trudged along in silence. They were following quad bike tracks and hoofprints across heather, mud and stone with their torches. Wind and rain pelted them. It didn't help the mood.

'We should have waited for the weather to break.' Frank grumbled.

Joe didn't say anything, he just strode on determinedly, leading the way. He was starting to feel warmer, thanks to the uphill route they were following.

When they had covered around three miles, they spotted lights above them, presumably on a hillside ahead of them. Frank recalled seeing what looked like an isolated farm about 5 miles north east of the castle when he was studying his map before they had set off. It was called 'Achshin' or 'Achsheen', something like that.

'Right, here's the plan' Frank said as they walked. 'We stay back, try to work out what's going on discretely. No risks. Right?'

'What about the girl? She helped us. She might get us our phones back.'

Frank shook his head. 'We can't trust her. She's one of them.'

'Not by choice, I think. She risked her life to save us!'

'Even so. If she's working for them through fear, she'll give us away for the same reason. We make contact with no one. Got it?' Frank's no-nonsense tone annoyed Joe. They would ordinarily have discussed what they should do. Frank was making sense, but he was dictating to him. Joe bit his tongue again and didn't rise to it. He figured he deserved it. He had hurt his brother, even though his intentions were good.

The boys approached the house slowly in the halflight of dawn. It was a two storey farmhouse set with a cluster of old stone outbuildings. It must have been pretty once upon a time, but now the whitewashed walls were stained and cracking. The overgrown garden was unkempt.

There were two vehicles parked in the yard outside the house, both dark blue Range Rovers. They were fairly new models and there was a horse trailer hitched onto one. Moving quietly, the boys crept around the outbuildings to see what they could find. Most of the buildings were full of junk. Old straw bales, now blackened and crusty, rusty farm machinery, even the partially mummified body of what must have been a sheep at one time. The place reeked of neglect. The quad bikes, which had been parked together in a dry corner of the largest shed, looked like the only working machinery on the place.

The brothers approached the last building and stopped short, hearing movement inside. Joe pushed the door open slowly, ready to jump on anyone inside. When no exclamation or attack followed, he switched on his torch. He exhaled in relief and pushed the door all the way open. 'It's that horse.' he whispered.

He walked over to the animal. It was shut in a stable in the corner of the shed, munching hay contentedly. It wore a cosy rug and had a deep straw bed. A hand-carved nameplate read 'Midnight'. The girl obviously loved him. Joe stroked the horse's neck. 'Thanks, boy' he whispered, then looked up, embarrassed at his own sentimentality, as he remembered Frank was beside him. But Frank smiled slightly, then reached up and rubbed the animal's head. At least they were united in their appreciation of the horse's efforts.

Frank turned and walking back to the door. Joe followed him.

'Right,' said Frank, 'let's try to get a look in the windows. Let's split up. You go clockwise, I'll go anticlockwise. We'll meet on the other side of the house. Do _not _talk to the girl.' Joe scowled and walked off. They went their separate ways.

Joe made his way around to the front of the house, pausing by the Range Rovers. He committed their models and license numbers to memory. Then, casting a cautious eye back towards the house, he made his way closer to them, aiming for the trailer. It had a small side door at the front end. He undid the catches and had a look inside. It was packed full of what had to have been the boxes that were unloaded from the boat. They were small crates, nailed shut. He spotted a split in the side of one of the boxes and prised some of the splintered wood back. There was what looked like a cylindrical metal container inside. He could make out the letters 'DF' on it. The letters rang a bell but he couldn't place them. He stood back and closed the door again.

Joe glanced up at the house again and inhaled sharply. He could see the girl! She was gazing out of a lit window at the side of the house. It looked like she was in a kitchen. There was a door into the house beside the window.

She looked so sad. Hardly registering that he'd moved, Joe found himself standing in the shadows beside the window, trying to see her better. The girl was crying, her face bearing new bruises. Joe bristled in anger. Frank's words rang in his ears for a moment, but he so wanted to help her. Surely they could trust her….

He hesitated for a moment, then he remembered Frank's cold, bossy manner. His rebellious streak came to the fore. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back out of the shadows so she could see him. Her jaw dropped. Their eyes met for a lingering moment, then she moved to the door and opened it.

'What are you doing here!? You have to go! He'll kill you!' she hissed.

'Please let us help you.' He whispered, blue eyes earnest.

The girl shook her head.

'What's your name?' he said gently.

'Kay.'

'Kay, if you could get us our phones back, we can call the police. We can finish this and save you from him for good.'

She hesitated, fear haunting her bright green eyes, then disappeared for a second. She returned carrying their phones and wallets. 'You have to go, please. Run.'

'OK. But let me give you my number. You can call me if he's going to hurt you. We'll stop him. I promise.' The girl disappeared for another moment, then passed him a pen and paper with shaking hands. Joe wrote down his number and passed it to her. 'I mean it. I want to help you.'

'I'm so sorry' she whispered.

He looked her in the eye, puzzled.

She glanced just behind him, eyes filling with tears.

Joe's eyes widened in realisation and he started to turn. He didn't get far. A blunt object struck the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. He fought to stay conscious, hearing a man's voice shouting 'Look for the other one! Well done, Kay.' Blackness closed in around him accompanied by the realisation that she had told them he was there. Frank had been right.

…

Meanwhile, Frank had moved the other way around the house. Peering carefully through the first window he came to, he realised he had struck gold! There were three men in there, including the one called 'James'. They were sitting around the prisoner the boys had seen being taken from the dinghy, laughing, taunting him. Frank sat down below the window and held his breath, hoping to overhear something that would help them find out what was going on.

'When Ed gets ahold of you, you'll talk, that's for sure!' one man said.

There was no response.

Frank heard a door open, then a female voice 'Dad. At the door.' Frank shut his eyes. He hoped that didn't mean what he thought it did. He turned and hurried, bent over double to avoid being seen, in the direction Joe had taken. He rounded a corner just in time to see Joe being carried, barely conscious, into the house by two men. The door slammed shut behind them.

'Joe, no, what did you do!' Frank murmured. Joe's good nature and impetuous personality could be a terrible combination. Frank felt a flash of anger at his brother for going against his explicit instructions. He supposed he was trying to demonstrate his independence. It had certainly backfired if so!

Frank heard footsteps coming from behind the house, and realised with a start they would come back out to look for him. He looked around for a hiding place. He couldn't help Joe if he was caught too! He looked up at the roof of the outbuilding containing Midnight's stable. It had a flat roof and was high enough that he wouldn't be easily seen. He took a run at it and managed to half jump, half scramble onto the roof. Frank lay flat and kept still. He heard footsteps running to and fro then everything went quiet.

After a few minutes, he risked raising his head to look over the edge of the building. His jaw dropped. 'No!' he whispered, fear clenching his gut. He had a clear view through a downstairs window into what looked like a small bedroom on the ground floor of the house. Inside the room he could see his brother, stripped to the waist and tied face down to a bed. The huge man known as 'James' was standing over him, whip in hand.


	6. Chapter 6

THE MERCHANDISE

CHAPTER 6- A LAPSE IN JUDGEMENT

Joe clawed his way to consciousness. His head hurt. He moaned and tried to move his hand to the side of his head. He couldn't. He was tied up again! Panicking, he pulled against his bonds. He was tied facedown by his wrists and his ankles. He had been tied well and couldn't budge.

He turned his head to look at the room in was in, then wished he hadn't. 'James' was sitting by his bed, looking right at him, smiling a twisted smile. He stank of alcohol.

Fear gripped Joe. This did not look good!

Seeing he was awake, the man bent over towards Joe. He grabbed him by the hair and pulled, _hard. _He spoke in Joe's ear, his voice deep and threatening. 'See this?' He held up his other hand. It contained a bullwhip. 'This is what you get when you cross me. So, 'Joe', where's your friend?'

Joe found his voice. 'Dead. He drowned. You killed him.' he gasped.

James laughed. 'You'd better hope that's true. How did you get free?'

'I…I had a knife. In my pocket'

The man growled, took a step back and swung his whip down sharply.

Joe gasped as the lash split the skin on his back.

'No you didn't. I checked. Try again.'

'Guess you didn't check very well then' Joe spat.

'You cheeky little shit!' shouted the man.

The lash came down again and again.

Joe turned his face away, screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the stinging pain. He didn't want the man to have the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

Suddenly, the door of the room opened. Joe looked round. It was Kay. 'S-sorry, Ed's on the phone for you, Dad. It's about the merchandise.'

Joe gazed at her in disbelief. That monster was her father?! Kay wasn't looking at him. She was holding her father's gaze. Joe saw her start to shake, waiting for his reaction.

'Fine.' He marched past her out of the door.

Kay turned slowly towards Joe, her eyes running over his injured back. 'I'm so sorry' she whispered. She turned to walk away.

'Wait, please help me!' croaked Joe.

She glanced back, shaking her head, eyes wide with fear. She went out of the room, closing the door.

Joe sagged down on the bed for a moment. He could feel drops of blood running down his sides. He didn't want to think about the damage that must have been done. Steeling himself, he began tugging wildly at his bonds. He had to get free before that madman came back! But he had been tied well. He couldn't move an inch and his wrists and ankles were beginning to bleed. Joe suddenly felt light-headed. Darkness closed in around him again.

…..

Frank watched helplessly as his brother was whipped. Unable to bear it any more, he slid off the roof, thinking if he could set up a diversion he could maybe get in and help Joe. Half a plan formulated in his head, he took two steps towards the house and then froze. He heard the front door opening. He crept to the corner of the house and looked round it cautiously.

He saw the girl and two of the four men loading up the Range Rovers with duffle bags. The other two men then appeared, dragging a figure with a bag over his head. Frank could tell instantly it wasn't Joe- it was a thin, frail man, not someone fit and strong like his brother. It was the man from the boat.

Frank hung back, watching. He heard one of the men say 'What about the American?'

James shook his head 'Forget him. We have to make the delivery now! Let the rats get him. Kay. Car, now!'

'Can I feed Midnight?' the girl asked, voice fearful. That earned her a slap on her cheek. Clutching her face, the girl rushed to one of the vehicles and got in the back. Frank shook his head. Joe was right- they did need to help her, if they could. The two Range Rovers pulled away at speed, the front one hitting a gatepost on way out, such was the driver's haste. Frank watched them disappearing along the long, rough track that presumably led to a road.

…..

Joe awoke again, grimacing in pain. His back, his head, his wrists and his ankles all screamed in protest. Then he looked round in horror. The door was opening again! He took a deep breath, preparing for the next onslaught. And then gasped in surprise. 'Frank!'

His brother crept in, eyes full of concern. 'You OK, Joe?'

'Yeah, quick, get me off of here!'

Frank looked around for a knife, then started to cut through Joe's bonds. He surveying the damage to Joe's back as he worked, wincing in sympathy. It was raw. A few of the strikes had been particularly savage and the cuts were oozing blood. Thankfully, most of the damage looked relatively superficial. It needed dressed but Joe should be OK. He felt a surge of anger towards the man who had done this to his brother. Job done, he helped Joe sit up.

'We need to get out of here!' said Joe. He tried to stand but his legs gave out and he sat heavily on the bed again.

'They've gone Joe. All of them. I think anyway. Take it easy, OK? I'm going to have a look about, see if I can find something to clean you up with.'

'I'm fine. Leave it.' Joe hissed through gritted teeth.

'Joe. You are _not _fine. Let me help you.'

'No Frank, leave it. I don't need you to look after me.' Joe raised his voice a little.

Frank growled in frustration. 'For goodness sake, Joe! I realise the timing is bad, I know you want to be Mr Independent. But you're hurt! How did they get you anyway? I have a feeling I'm not going to like the answer.'

Joe didn't reply. The silence confirmed what Frank had suspected and he felt another flash of anger, this time directed at his brother. 'You have to be kidding me, Joe, I told you not to trust her! What's wrong with you? Is it because she's pretty? What part of your body was doing the thinking?!'

Joe hung his head, his brother's words hurting more than the whip had.

Frank shook his head in frustration at Joe's lack of communication. Joe was sitting facing him, bent forward slightly. He seemed to be studying his hands and was shaking a little, unsurprisingly. At first Frank thought he must be cold, then he noticed a tear falling on Joe's jeans. He felt a flood of guilt. Joe had already paid for his mistake, there was no need for Frank to give him a hard time too.

'Joe? I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. I shouldn't have said that. Let me help you, okay?'

Joe shook his head, not trusting his voice. He felt stupid, like an unprofessional kid. Here he was telling Frank he didn't need him and then he'd as good as given himself to the bad guys to endure a humiliating punishment. He'd never have got caught if he hadn't let his guard down talking to that girl. Frank wouldn't have made that mistake! He was furious with himself, embarrassed and sore. 'I _don't_ need you looking after me' he growled 'It's my own stupid fault. Just leave me alone, OK?'

Spotting his clothes on the floor, Joe reached down and grabbed his shirt, shrugging it on over his injured back. He tried to suppress a grimace of pain as the material touched his torn flesh, with a small degree of success. He bent back down to pick up his jacket. Taking a deep breath, he stood and walked wearily towards the door. He couldn't face Frank. He wiped angrily at his eyes, not wanting his brother to see his tears.

Shaking his head, Frank followed behind him.

….

The brothers searched the old farmhouse from top to bottom, moving from room to room in silence. Joe found a phone in the downstairs livingroom. He lifted it. There was no dial tone. He picked up the cord at the back of it. It hung loose in his hand- it had been pulled from the wall. 'Great' he muttered.

Most of the house, like the outbuildings, was filthy and it looked more like a squat than a home. One of the upstairs bedrooms was different. It was sparsely furnished but the bed was neatly made. There was a photo on the bedside table of beautiful green-eyed woman with her arms wrapped around a little girl. They both had long red hair.

'Kay and her mom?' ventured Joe.

'Is that her name?' Frank asked.

Joe nodded 'I wonder where the mother is. She called that gorilla 'dad' before.'

'God, really? Poor girl.' He looked at his brother's pale, strained face and wished he could take back his harsh words. 'We will help her, Joe. Her and that man. We better get going, we've got a long walk ahead of us.'

Joe shook his head. 'Quad bikes.'

'Good point.'

As they made their way back out of the house, Joe told Frank about the boxes and the metal container in the trailer. 'Any idea what 'DF' could stand for?'

Frank frowned. 'Not sure. Rings a bell.'

'Same here. Oh, I got our phones and wallets back' said Joe. 'The phones are dead, of course. Need charged.' He dug about in his jeans pocket and passed Frank his cellphone.

'Thanks.' It was on the tip of Frank's tongue to apologise again. He'd been too hard on Joe. His brother had done well, and had suffered for his one lapse in judgement. This was one of those times when an arm round the shoulder and a 'well done' would once have come naturally. Not now. Frank found himself in unchartered territory, not knowing what Joe wanted or where he stood. Ending their partnership was one thing but pushing him away at every available opportunity was too much. In the end he said nothing for fear of saying the wrong thing.

The boys headed for the shed where the quad bikes were. Frank hesitated as they passed the building with the stable inside. 'Kay asked if she could feed the horse but James wouldn't let her. We should give him something.' Joe nodded. They found some clean hay and gave him a big pile, then filled an extra bucket of water for him.

'We'll tell the police about him. Make sure he's taken care of' said Frank, stroking the animal's silky neck. He glanced over at Joe, who was doing the same on the other side of the horse. Joe looked up at him for a moment, his face an unreadable mask. Then he turned and walked out of the shed.

Frank sighed 'I have _not _handled this well. How do I fix this?' he whispered to the horse. Midnight nudged him gently, checking his pockets for carrots. 'Can I fix this at all?' he wondered.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7- DINGWALL'S FINEST

The brothers rode the quad bikes along the long, rough farm track in silence. Joe was very tired and very sore. He was feeling more and more down. It seemed the more he tried to show Frank he didn't need him anymore, the more circumstances were making it look like he did. And now Frank was not only upset about his decision, he was annoyed and disappointed with him. Quite rightly too. What an idiot he'd been!

He supposed, if there could be a bright side in all this, it would be that Frank would be pretty happy for them to go their separate ways now. Mission accomplished, he thought morosely. He suddenly wished he hadn't overheard Frank and Callie's conversation. How different would the last 12 hours have been if he and Frank were still best friends, working together properly instead of snapping at each other? He probably would have been more inclined to heed Frank's advice about Kay if he hadn't been as bossy. And, right now, he would have been having fun, enjoying the ride through the beautiful landscape, adrenaline surging with the knowledge they were hot on the heels of some bad guys.

Frank's voice cut into his thoughts. 'I'm needing to fill up. How's your quad?' Joe looked down at his fuel gauge. It was pretty low. He pulled the vehicle up and got off, picking a plastic barrel of petrol and a funnel they had helped themselves to from one of the sheds out of the box fitted behind his seat. He passed them to Frank. He walked away while Frank filled the tanks. He wanted to avoid any more barbed comments his brother might have lined up for him and he could think of nothing he wanted to say.

Frank watched him sadly.

….

Frank and Joe pulled into the car park of Dingwall police station around 6am. They had located the building in the small country town almost immediately. It was a compact, modern three storey building with a glass front. The boys parked the quads and approached the front door. They could see a slightly rotund, balding police officer at the front desk watching them approach with distain. Frank realised it must be getting on for the end of the nightshift- perhaps not the best time to find an enthusiastic policeman.

As they walked through the front door the officer's eyebrows shot up as he took in their injuries and dishevelled appearance. His eyes narrowed. 'You know those vehicles aren't road legal, right? And you've just ridden them bold as brass into a police station car park?

Frank attempted a winning yet apologetic smile. 'I know, we're sorry, but we've got some crimes to report.

'Go on…..' the man looked doubtful.

'How about kidnapping, assault, smuggling- or whatever crime that counts as here. That's just for starters.

The officer stared at him for a moment, then shook off his disbelief. 'OK. You better take a seat.'

….

Half an hour later, each boy was in a separate room having a detailed statement noted from them. The officer from the front desk, PC Palmer, was speaking to Joe. A female officer, PC Jarvis, was noting details from Frank in a separate interview room.

Detectives, known as CID officers, had been informed and were enroute from Inverness to speak to them.

PC Palmer put down his pen and sat back. He flicked back through the statement Joe had just given him. 'I can't believe you and your brother just did all this. You say you're private detectives?'

'Well, yes. At the moment anyway.'

'Wait a minute. Are you Fenton Hardy's sons?'

Joe nodded 'You've heard of him?'

The constable smiled broadly. 'Of course, he's brilliant! I've heard of you too, I can't believe you're here!'

Joe smiled, a little embarrassed. 'We'd love to follow this up. I mean, I'm sure you'll do a great job with it, but we'd like to you know, help out a bit, on the quiet, if we can. Is there any information you can give us, anything else you know about the people involved?'

'Not that I know of, I'm sorry. The only thing we have is the registered keeper's address for the vehicles you gave us the registration plates of.'

'Were they not registered to the farm?'

'Actually, no.'

'Could you give me the address? It would be a great start.'

'I can't tell you that… I'm sorry. It _will_ be followed up. Not by us, but by officers based in the area. It's in a different area of Scotland.'

PC Palmer stared at Joe's disappointed face for a moment, weighing him up.

'No, I can't give you the address. But I can go and make you a cup of tea.'

Joe shook his head. 'I don't drink tea, thanks.'

'You should. I'll make you one anyway.' He made a point of pushing his little black police notebook a touch closer to Joe, meeting his eye. Then walked out the room, leaving it on the table.

Joe blinked in astonishment. He grabbed PC Palmer's notebook, opened it up and flicked to the pages before his statement. There it was- the results of the vehicle check the police had carried out on the car.

_Registered keeper- Edward Campbell, 66F Niddrie Bends, Cambusside, Edinburgh._

Joe committed the information to memory and closed the notebook, carefully placing it back where he'd got it from.

PC Palmer came back in with the tea a moment later. 'Is this what you wanted?' he asked.

'Exactly what I wanted' said Joe, smiling and taking the cup. 'Thank you.'

...

It was after midday by the time the brothers were dropped off at Inverness station to catch the Edinburgh train so they could re-join their father. It had felt like they had been at Dingwall Police Station for a _very_ long time. They had been interviewed in detail by the uniformed officers, then plain clothes detectives arrived to go through their stories with them again. They were shown mug shots, but hadn't recognised any faces. Joe's injuries were photographed. He had refused to see a doctor, but allowed PC Palmer to clean him up and dress the worst injuries. Joe had declined Frank's support during the process. Frank had watched from the doorway, feeling terrible. Now, Frank gazed blankly out of the train window, watching green fields go by. He winced at the memory of feeling useless and excluded. He felt too tired to try to think what he could try to do to make things right between he and his brother again. He looked over at Joe. He was asleep in the seat facing him, head leaning against the window. He looked terrible, his dark bruises standing out in contrast to his pale skin.

Frank gave in to his body's demands for sleep and shut his eyes.

The train finally pulled into Edinburgh around 4. Frank woke up as the train approached Waverley Station. Had it really been less than two days since they had left the city? He watched the scenery rolling by, peering up at the castle looming over them from its crag. He could smell the city. The breweries gave the air the irresistible smell of malted barley. It seemed friendly, welcoming.

Frank reached over the table and touched Joe's arm to rouse him. His brother's eyes fluttered open. 'We're here.' said Frank. 'Let's go find dad.' Frank had phoned their father to fill him in while they were hanging around at the police station. He hadn't seemed surprised that they had stumbled across criminal activity- it was far from the first time- but he was certainly be keen to lay his eyes on them, to see they were both okay for himself. He would know right away, Frank realised, that things weren't okay between them. He wondered what their dad would make of Joe's plans. He hoped they wouldn't fight. Their matching fiery tempers had a habit of escalating matters, not improving them.

Joe followed Frank off the train and across the platform, heading for a taxi rank. He was still half-asleep. He glanced at a rack of newspapers outside a newsagents shop as they walked by. And double took! Staring out from the front page was a face he recognised. Joe grabbed a paper and ran into the shop to pay for it.

Frank appeared looking for him, annoyance on his face.

'Frank! Look!' Joe blurted, before Frank could say anything. 'It's the man from the boat!'

Frank grabbed the newspaper from him, looking at the photo and the article. 'Oh my god! You're right, Joe! It says he's a scientist called Pierre Dauphin. He's thought to have been kidnapped from his home on western France three days ago by persons unknown. No ransom demand received as yet!'

'What sort of scientist is he?'

Frank scanned the page. 'He's a weapons specialist…chemical weapons.'

Joe frowned. 'I've got a really bad feeling about this, Frank'

'You and me both. Wait a minute. 'DF' Joe, it could be diflouride! It's an ingredient used to make a sort of chemical weapon. They call it a binary weapon- they make a missile with two different compounds inside. I think they use a form of diflouride with something along the lines of isopropyl alcohol. They are stable till they're mixed- it makes them safer to transport. But when they combine they form sarin…'

'The deadly nerve gas' finished Joe, eyes wide with horror.


	8. Chapter 8

Warning- appalling language as the boys immerse themselves in some variable Edinburgh culture...

All the places described so far in the story are real. Cambusside is not. I invented it to avoid using the name of any of the real estates in the general area which the description is based on.

THE MERCHANDISE

CHAPTER 8- OFF THE TOURIST TRAIL...

Frank and Joe stood in the busy public concourse at Waverley Station, staring at each other in horror. Could the criminals operating in that quiet corner of the highlands really be part of a plot involving chemical weapons? 'We've got to call Dad.' said Joe. 'The right people need to know about this straight away. He'll know who to speak to.'

Frank nodded, pulling out his phone. He spoke briefly with their father, then turned to Joe. 'He's on it. He was already liasing with the police over our case. I think we probably knew he'd do that! Now, he's going to tell the appropriate people about Dauphin and the terrifying possibility that the merchandise they kept referring to could be related to the construction of chemical weapons.' Frank looked at his brother, raising an eyebrow. 'He said to go to the hotel to get some rest. He's planning to join us later and fill us in on what's happening this end.'

Joe frowned. 'Rest? I'd find it pretty restful having a look for those Range Rovers . It's gonna help if we know where they've gone.'

Frank nodded in agreement. He'd been suitably impressed when Joe reeled off the address he'd got from PC Palmer's notebook and was itching to look for the vehicles as much as his brother. A lie down in a nice hotel was way down on the agenda. 'I'm sure the police are on it, but you never know. Let's go.'

….

The boys found a free taxi and gave the driver the address. He had looked at them in a 'you have to be kidding' way. 'I'll take you _near_ there, boys. I don't go in that housing estate. Life's too short.'

'I take it it's a bit rough' guessed Frank.

'You not been there before?'

'No. We're just….sightseeing.'

'You'll see some sights, that's for sure…good luck.'

The brothers exchanged a glance. The taxi left the station. They turned uphill into the quaint cobbled streets of the Old Town then onto wider roads flanked by rows of smart stone-built Victorian tenement flats. Then they hit the outer limits of the south side of Edinburgh.

'Here we go,' said the driver, 'welcome to the concrete jungle'. Cambusside, it turned out, was an extensive council estate on the outskirts of the city. The estate was of a type constructed in the 1900's on the on the edge of most towns and cities across the country, intended to house the poor. Pensioners, single-parent families and the terminally unemployed lived cheek-by-jowl, largely paying their rent to the government using money given to them by the government. A safety-net to prevent homelessness. And a convenient way of sweeping many of life's problems into one tidy corner.

Five gray towerblocks, maybe 20 floors high, stood in the centre of Cambusside, dominating the surrounding area. They were encircled by terraces of tiny flats and houses, marred by graffiti and boarded up windows. What passed for gardens in front of some of the larger houses were planted with old sofas and fridges rather than flowers. The place screamed deprivation.

The driver stopped the car at the entrance to the estate, marked by a large white sign that had carried the name 'Cambusside'. It had been crossed out with spray paint and replaced with the phrase 'FUCK THE POLIS'.

'That's as close as I go' the driver said. '30 pounds please'. Frank fished some cash out of his wallet and passed it over. 'I think the address you gave me is in one of the towerblocks. When you go in the entrance, remember to look up.'

'Why?' said Joe, pretty sure he wouldn't like the answer.

'The kids like dropping stuff on folk from a height. Kind of a local sport. I heard it's washing machines at the moment.' The driver gave them a cheerful wave as he pulled away.

The brothers walked in silence through the housing estate towards the tower blocks. As they got closer, they realised there were three police vehicles parked outside the block the vehicles' owner supposedly resided in. Uniformed officers were milling around the area, working their way around doors, no doubt enquiring about the vehicles. It looked like Edinburgh's police were on top of the investigation. 'That's good' said Frank. 'Let's have a look about too, see if we can find those cars.'

The boys started walking round the streets methodically, working out the layout of the estate, and looking for the Range Rovers. Hearing a noise behind them, Joe glanced round. 'Don't look now but we've picked up a tail.'

Frank took a surreptitious look over his shoulder. Sure enough, a skinny man with a tattoo on his forehead was walking a short distance behind them. He was dressed from head to toe in denim and had a shaved head, silvery scars showing starkly through the stubble. He saw them clocking him and a hand went into his pocket.

'He's got a weapon' whispered Joe. Frank nodded. They kept walking, waiting for the man to make his move. He did so quickly, running up behind them and grabbing Joe's arm. Joe stepped to one side and stuck out his foot, using the man's own momentum to trip him. He and Frank dropped as one, pinning the man on his back, deftly restraining an arm each so he couldn't get to his weapon. Frank patted his pocket then pulled out a knife.

'Can we help you?' said Joe, smiling sweetly.

'Ya piece o'shite!' shouted the man 'Let me up, This is ma estate, see. You're no' welcome here. Now fuck off an' let me go!'

'We'll let you go, if you leave us alone. Deal?' offered Frank, generously.

'Fuck you, Yank!' yelled the man. 'I'm gonny fuckin' chib ya.' He growled in what might as well have been a foreign language. He bared his teeth at them in a vain attempt to look intimidating. They were rotten, black stumps. He was a heroin addict, they realised. That explained why he had taken the two of them on. He was desperate for money for his fix and hoped they might be easy targets. His eyes were empty. It was like he was a hollow shell of a person. Heroin was a terrible thing and they couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Frank peered at the spidery scrawl of a tattoo. It was a familiar phrase- _FUCK THE POLIS. _It was written in mirror image. He had probably done it himself whilst looking in a mirror.

'Polis?' Frank said 'Is that what you call the police?'

'Are _you _fucking polis? Even better, I'll fucking kill you anyway, ya Yankee bastard!'

'What shall we do with him?' said Joe, not really wanting to waste time on the unfortunate man.

'Give him all your money, that's what!' yelled a voice from behind them. Three more skinny men had appeared, each holding a knife. The junkie had reinforcements!

'Run!' yelled Frank. 'Back to where the police were!' The brothers took off, running stride for stride. Their pursuers were surprisingly quick! Joe felt his breath burning in his throat as they sprinted down the street. 'This way!' yelled Frank, vaulting over a fence into a garden, dodging the charred remains of a settee, then jumping the fence out the other side into a parallel street. Joe was right behind him. He turned for a second to see how close behind the men were. Still too close! 'There was a police car this way, I'm sure!' panted Frank as they rounded a corner. Sure enough, the marked Vauxhall Astra, with two police officers inside writing furiously in their notebooks, was parked up at the side of the road. The brothers turned to see if the men had spotted it. They had. They slid to a stop, then started walking casually off in different directions.

'That worked well!' remarked Joe. The brothers nodded at the police officers as they walked past the vehicle. The occupants, one male, one female, looked at them suspiciously, then returned to their writing.

The boys walked on into the next street, now keeping a careful eye out for drug-addled members of the population. 'Frank- look!' said Joe, grabbing his brother's arm.

Parked up at the side of the road was a Range Rover. It was red and the license plates were different from those they had seen at the farm in the highlands. But it was the right model and it looked like it was newly painted… Frank walked around it. There was a dent on the front driver's side wing. 'This is one of them! I'm sure it is. The driver hit a gatepost on this side on his way out of the farm yard. Come on, let's go back to that police car.'

At that moment, Joe's phone rang. He pulled it out. He didn't recognise the number. 'Hello?' he said, then looked at Frank and mouthed 'It's Kay!'

'Can I speak to her?' said Frank.

Joe glowered at him, then shrugged and passed him the phone.

'This is Joe's brother. What do you want?'

'Joe said you'd help me? I need your help, NOW!' she sounding terrified.

'Where are you?'

Frank listened to the address, then turned round, looking at the street sign behind them. 'Right, I'm going to get the police to come to you, OK?'

'NO! Please.' the girl shrieked, 'there's no one else here, I promise. I won't talk to the polis but I'll tell you everything. I've just found out what they're planning. It's awful! Please come.' The line went dead.

Frank looked at Joe. 'She says she's in this street. Number 50, flat D. Says she'll tell us everything.'

'We can't trust her. It could be a trap.' Joe was determined not to get caught out again.

'No, we can't. Let's give her a chance though. We'll just go carefully.'

…

The brothers quickly found the address. Flat D was on the top floor of a low, four-storey block of flats. The main door wasn't locked and the brothers let themselves in. They started climbing the communal stairs. Glancing out of a landing window part way up, Joe realised that he could suddenly see the red Range Rover over the roof of the lower building beside them. That meant he and Frank could have been seen from the address when they were looking at the vehicle! He grabbed Frank's arm and pointed out the vehicle.

Frank bit his lip, having second thoughts. If they had been clocked, there was a good chance it _was _a trap. 'Maybe we…'

He was interrupted by the flat door opening just above them. It was Kay. 'Thank goodness you're here' she cried, running down the stairs to them. 'I have to show you what they're planning, please, come with me!' she grabbed Joe's hand and tried to pull him up the stairs towards the open flat door.

Joe stood his ground, pulling her back. 'Why don't we go talk somewhere else?' he suggested gently.

'No, you have to come up!' she sobbed.

'Why, Kay?' Frank's voice was cold.

'Because if you don't they'll kill me!' she whispered.

'Is it a trap?' hissed Joe.

Kay nodded, terror in her green eyes. 'I'm sorry.'

Joe grabbed her arm. 'Come with us.' He pulled her down the stairs as fast as he could, Frank following behind. But Frank pulled up short when he got to the bottom of the stairs. Blocking the way was James, man-mountain extraordinaire. He held a pistol in one hand, a plastic sheet in the other. 'Going somewhere, Kay?' he growled.

'No Dad, they made me!' the girl gasped.

'Back up the stairs, boys. Kay- go and wait in the car. I'll be along once I've dealt with…this.' He looked the brothers up and down in disgust.

Kay ran past her father, then turned, tears in her eyes. She mouthed 'I'm sorry' at the Hardys over his shoulder. It was getting to be a habit.

Frank and Joe turned and walked back up the stairs, hoping a chance to knock the gun out of James' hand would materialise.

'In the flat. Then first room on the left. Go in and sit.'

They did as they were told, going in to what proved to be something that passed for a sitting room. A two-seater sofa was shoved hard up against the closest wall. A table covered in empty beer cans and overflowing ashtrays sat beside it. There was a stained mattress on the floor at the far side of the room with a second accumulation of litter around it.

James came in the room behind them and closed the door.

'You two are nothing short of a pain in the arse. I should have just shot you at the castle. No matter, I'll sort it now. First, if you could be so kind as to cover my sofa with this sheet.' He threw the plastic sheet over to the brothers. It landed at their feet. 'I would hate to have to make Kay wash brain off it.'

He opened the door slightly, calling through it. 'Boys, Ed, you want to see the Yanks getting it?'

A voice drifted from along the hall. 'Fuck yeah!'

Frank looked at Joe. This did not look good. James stood to the side of the door as it opened. Two of the three other men the boys had faced at Castle Sinclair filed in, enthusiastic expressions on their faces. A new face followed them. A short, wiry man in his fifties. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth which was a thin, straight line on his hard face. Ed Campbell, registered owner of the Range Rovers, the boys surmised.

'Sheet, boys. Lay out the sheet.' commanded James 'If you want to go quickly you'll do what I say. I'm more than happy to do your knees first, ya pair o' dickheads.'

The brothers looked at each other as they bent over to unfold the sheet. They both knew what to do. If they both went for James at the same time he would only be able to shoot one of them before they reached him. The other might have time to do some damage. They stood up and turned as one, throwing themselves at the man.

Shocked, he took a moment to react. In that instant, Joe had grabbed his gun arm and shoved it down, pointed it to the ground. Frank's hand flashed in an expert karate shop at his neck. He sagged to the ground, stunned.

The remaining men, momentarily shocked, jumped into action. One man went for Joe, two for Frank. Joe had gone for the gun but it was pinned under James's body. As he struggled to shift him, Joe took a blow to his shoulder that sent him staggering. He managed to keep his balance and swung a powerful punch at his opponent, felling the man.

Joe turned his attention to Frank. Frank was on the ground, rolling around with Ed Campbell. He looked to be getting the upper hand, but his back was open to the last criminal, who had his arm around Frank's neck, trying ineffectively to pull him free of his cohort. As Joe ran over to them, the man let go of Frank's neck and drew a knife. He struck out aiming for Frank's side, just under his ribcage!

'No!' Joe screamed, launching himself at the knifeman. He knocked him clear of Frank and the knife went skittering out of his hand across the floor.

Frank finally managed to get through Campbell's guard and knocked him out with a well-aimed punch. He turned and saw Joe wrestling with the last conscious bad guy, trying desperately to keep him away from his knife. Frank ran over and kicked the knife clear of his hand, then stood over them, booted foot raised in the air. 'Give up or you get this in the face!'

The man froze in fear for a second. Then saw something behind Frank that made him relax and smile.

'Get off him, Joe, stand back!' It was Kay! The Hardys spun round, their hearts sinking. The girl had somehow got James' pistol. It was pointed right at them. The hand gripping the gun shook violently. She steadied her wrist with her other hand, attempting to maintain her threatening stance.

'Good girl, Kay, good timing.' said the man on the floor. Joe stood up, releasing him. The man started started to get up.

'No! You don't move, Uncle John! I'll shoot you too, I mean it! Don't move! You two, the Americans. Run. NOW! GO!' Kay yelled, voice quaking with terror at what she was doing.

'But Kay….' Joe began. There was a muffled groan behind the brothers. The boys turned to see James getting to his feet and helping one of the other men up.

James clocked what was going on. 'Kay what the fuck are you doing!'

Joe turned to Kay. 'Kay, please- if you give us the gun, we can hold them and get the police.' he pleaded 'This could all be over.'

Kay's face crumpled 'I can't, they're my family. I'm sorry. You go. I'll keep them here till you get away.'

Joe took a step towards her, holding his hand out. 'Please, Kay.'

'No! Go! I'll kill you, Joe, I mean it!' she yelled, voice breaking with emotion.

Frank grabbed Joe's arm. 'Come on!' he said. With one last backwards glance at Kay, Joe turned and followed his brother out of the flat and down the stairs. As they got to the door to the street, they heard a muffled scream echoing down from the top flat, followed by a door slamming and running footsteps.

'They're coming!' exclaimed Frank.

Frank and Joe ran flat out to the police car they had seen parked in the neighbouring street. The driver was a slim policewoman who looked to be around 30. Her long, dark hair was swept neatly back into a bun. Her colleague was probably around the same age. He too was dark-haired, and looked lanky and lithe, with kind blue eyes in his lean face. The woman wound down her window as they approached.

'Can you help us, please?' Joe panted.

She looked unimpressed, her expression that of someone who has seen it all before. 'Get in.' she said in a resigned fashion, pointing to the back seat.

Frank and Joe jumped into the back seat of the police car and started to try to explain what had happened.

'We're here looking for the Range Rovers, same as you.' said Frank.

The two police officers exchanged a glance then turned to look at them. 'Why?' ventured the man.

'We'll get to that. Four of the men you're looking for were in the next street, Moss Crescent, flat 50D. They were chasing us. They have a pistol and they may have just hurt the girl that was with them. We heard her scream. She was in the flat.' summarised Joe.

The police woman started the car wordlessly. She rolled it forwards cautiously to the junction with Moss Crescent.

'That's one of the Range Rovers.' said Frank, pointing down the crescent. ' It's been resprayed and the plates changed. We recognised it.'

'O-kay…..I take it you're Frank and Joe Hardy?' ventured the male police officer. They nodded. 'Right, I'll tell control.' He held a button on the personal radio that was attached to his stab-proof vest. 'Alpha Bravo 1-4 to Alpha'.

The officers both had earpieces in so Frank and Joe couldn't hear their control room's reply.

'Roger. We're at Moss Crescent in Cambusside. We may have located one of the target vehicles. We've been approached by the original informants from Dingwall. They're here. For some reason.' He turned and gave them a look. 'They say there are four male suspects are in the area, possibly at 50D Moss Crescent. They are thought to be armed with a pistol. Can we get all available officers to the area and a firearms unit if they're available. We'll start to set up a cordon.'

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when a group of figures appeared on Moss Crescent, running for the Range Rover. It was the four men! James was pulling Kay along by her hair, the pistol in his other hand.

'Shit!' exclaimed the policeman.

The Range Rover took off, speeding away from them the other way along Moss Crescent.

'You two get out, now!' shouted the policewoman.

'No chance' said Joe. 'Go, you'll lose them!'

'Shit, we'll get strung up if we them with us, Sam.' shouted the policeman.

'We'll just have to make sure we get a good arrest to make up for it, Stevie!'

The policewoman, who appeared to be called 'Sam', stuck her foot down on the gas and the Astra shot away after the Range Rover. She flicked some switches just above the gear stick and the lights and sirens kicked in.

The chase was on!


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks the Red and max2013 for the reviews :) And Signature Farms of course! Apologies, missed you out first time round due to stupidity...:(

Re this chapter- UK police are not routinely armed with guns. Only specialist firearms units have them. There is often only one set on (ie two people in a car) covering a city at any one time. Most officers now have tasers but didn't when I wrote this. Just in case you're wondering why they don't just shoot the baddies!

CHAPTER 9- THE CHASE

The police car's tyres screeched as it took off along Moss Crescent in pursuit of the Range Rover!

Stevie, the male police officer, was back on his radio straight away. He reeled information off to police control. 'Cancel previous requests! We have the target Range Rover making off in a westerly direction along Moss Crescent. It has failed to stop. We are in pursuit! Five occupants- four males and a female who was forced into the vehicle. One male in possession of a handgun! Request urgent back-up!'

The Range Rover tore around Cambusside, making last-minute turns and powering away along straights in an attempt to lose the police Astra. The noise of engines screaming and the smell of burning rubber drew onlookers from every nook and cranny in the estate. The fleeing driver clearly knew the warren of streets like the back of his hand. But so did the police. The Astra was right behind them all the way!

The Hardys, bodies pumping with adrenaline, held on to the seats in front of them, trying to keep sight of the Range Rover. Joe gritted his teeth in frustration. What he would have done to be in the driver's seat of the police car!

Stevie was speaking in the radio constantly as the police car flew along, giving a commentary on the pursuit to police control and instructing colleagues to block off roads ahead of them.

'We should have them!' he shouted after a few minutes, excitement in his voice. 'The road ahead has been blocked off and there's no side roads. You ready to try to run, Sam?'

'Bet I get one before you, you old, fat bastard.' said Sam through gritted teeth as she forced the Astra to stay with the more powerful vehicle.

Frank narrowed his eyes, wondering briefly if the officers were married. Then his attention was firmly back on the action! The brothers held their breath as the driver of the Range Rover ahead of them clocked the police road block and braked hard. His vehicle slewed sideways and bounced off a parked car, glass from shattering tail lights spraying across the road! The Range Rover stopped for a fraction of a second. Stevie had his door open and was about to get out of the vehicle. Frank and Joe reached to open their doors and found nothing happened! 'Child locks? You have to be kidding!' exclaimed Joe.

But then the Range Rover's engine revved and it shot forwards again, wheels spinning and gravel flying! It bounced up over the pavement into a playpark, taking the metal railings from the roadside with it.

'Shit!' exclaimed Sam. 'Crazy bastard! Thank God there's no kids about!' She wasted no time, hitting the accelerator and flying after the fleeing vehicle. Frank and Joe held on grimly as the Astra bounced and skidded into the park. The Range Rover ploughed through the fence at the back of the play park onto a large open area of mown grass separating Cambusside from the Edinburgh City Bypass. The boys could see the busy route ahead of them- a four lane road running around the south and east sides of the city. A pursuit on the bypass had the potential to cause carnage!

'From Alpha Bravo 1-4. They're off-roading, heading for the city bypass at Dreghorn. Request urgent pack-up to the bypass!'

The Range Rover bounced back onto a road running towards the bypass, sped through an underpass then careered up the on-ramp onto the motorway.

'From Alpha Bravo 1-4, we're on the bypass at Dreghorn, west-bound. Request road closure ahead!'

The vehicles wound in and out of the traffic. The driver of the Range Rover found his way blocked by a car slowly overtaking a truck. Without hesitation, he rammed the vehicle, sending it spinning onto the hard shoulder! The Hardys looked back at the wreck in horror. But the car came to a stop still on its wheels. They could see movement inside it. It looked like no-one was hurt. If the chase went on like this, someone was going to get killed!

They passed an on- ramp and saw flashing blue lights ahead of them. Thank goodness! Two police vehicles had come on the road ahead of them and had stopped the traffic. Confused motorists craned their necks to see why they had been made to stop at the side of the road. The Range Rover and pursuing Astra flashed safely passed them and into clear road. The Range Rover wasn't hanging about. It was topping 110 miles an hour and still accelerating. 'Shit, the Astra can't go much faster than this' hissed Sam. 'Come on, bloody car!'

The Astra's engine was screaming, the vehicle bottoming out about 115. The Range Rover shot ahead. 'Aaaaah!' shouted Sam in frustration, banging the steering wheel with her fists. 'Cheap crappy shitty car!'

Stevie turned to the boys 'Don't mind her. She has issues.'

'I'll give you issues, you beanpole.' she snapped.

'Shut it, old woman'

They stopped bickering for a second, left hands going to their earpieces.

''Traffic have barricaded the bypass at the next junction! They're getting units in place to shepherd them off the bypass and into an old quarry.'

Looking ahead of them, the boys could see what looked like a wall of flashing blue lights ahead of them just after the next junction.

They saw a sudden movement at the side of the road. A lone officer, hidden in undergrowth until the last moment, threw a spiked stinger across the road directly in front of the Range Rover. The vehicle swerved, but too late, and went over the spikes. It slewed violently, its tyres punctured!

'Yes! Nice one! He got them!' exclaimed Sam, turning sharply to miss the spikes. She spun the steering wheel, putting the Astra in a controlled sideways skid for a few metres then straightening it up and speeding on. The Hardys exchanged a glance. She was good!

Surely the car would stop now! It crawled up to the roadblock, then, with a hideous shrieking of metal as the now tyre-less wheel rims cut the road surface, the driver accelerated again. He sped towards the smallest car in the barricade! He struck it head on, police officers jumping out of the way as it was thrown to one side by the larger vehicle!

'He's fucking nuts!' exclaimed Stevie.

Sam slowed slightly through the carnage at the road-block, not wanting to add to the damage, then floored it and flew after the Range Rover again. But the vehicle was only hitting around 40 now, sparks firing up from the ruined wheels as it went. Sam and Stevie listened to their earpieces for a moment. 'A specialist car from the Traffic unit is behind is. They've got clearance to take them out.' Said Stevie with a grim smile. 'Right, ready to run again!'

'Erm, our child locks are on..' said Frank.

Stevie turned round and glared at him. 'Yeah, I didn't mean you. I meant Sam. You stay here.'

Joe turned and looked behind them. A marked BMW shot through the ruined roadblock. It made up ground fast and streaked past them, pulling level to the rear passenger door of the Range Rover. Sam dropped the Astra right back out the way. Making a sudden move, the driver of the BMW turned sharply, hitting the Range Rover. It span violently, sliding sideways in a blizzard of sparks, then rolled over, coming to a stop back on its wheels on the hard shoulder of the road!

Sam braked to a screeching stop.

'GO!' yelled Stevie as he and Sam threw their doors open and sprinted for the vehicle.

Joe started winding down his window.

'What you doing?' said Frank.

'Letting us out.' He put his hand through the open window and opened his door from the outside.

Frank scrambled across the back seat and followed him.

As they approached the Range Rover, there was a flurry of movement. The four men emerged and three ran off in different directions. A fourth collapsed on the roadway, his leg obviously broken. The officer who had been driving the BMW took off after one, Sam and Stevie each went for another. Frank sprinted after Sam. Joe hesitated for a moment, looking at the Range Rover. He ran over and peered in the closest back door. 'Kay? You alright?' She was lying in the footwell of the back seat. She slowly pulled herself up, apparently unsure herself, then looked at him and nodded.

'Stay here. I'll be back.' Joe said to her, then he turned and ran after Stevie, knowing he was chasing James. He might just need some help….

…

Frank pumped his arms and legs as fast as he could, trying to make up ground. They were running through open grassland past surprised-looking cows. He could see Sam ahead of him, hot on the heels of Edward Campbell. She shouted at him to stop but he was paid no heed. Frank saw Sam drop and push hard, putting on a final burst of speed. She threw herself at the man's upper legs, taking him out in a flying tackle that sent them both tumbling across the grass!

Campbell was on his feet first and ran up to Sam, looking to kick her in the face. She kicked out first, hitting his knee as he reached her. He fell to the ground, crying out in pain. He reached out to grab her hair, but she'd drawn her baton and smacked his arm. She got to her feet, pulling out her handcuffs. Then she slipped at exactly the wrong moment, landing on her side, hand momentarily pinned under her body! Campbell saw his chance. He grabbed her free arm with one hand and pulled his other back ready to punch her face.

He didn't get a chance to hit her. Frank hit him, hard, from the side, knocking him flat on his face! He grabbed the man's right arm, twisting it behind his back. He held it while Sam handcuffed him.

Job done, she looked round and smiled broadly at Frank. 'Cheers, mate. That was seriously nice timing! Which Hardy are you, anyway?'

Frank nodded. 'Anytime. Frank Hardy. Nice to meet you!'

….

Meanwhile, Joe was following footprints left by Stevie and James. His moment's hesitation had been long enough for the two of them to get out of sight. They weren't hanging about! James had jumped the barrier at the side of the road, run through a field and vaulted a fence into a tree-lined muddy track. Joe heard Stevie shouting up ahead of them. 'Put down the gun. Deploying CS spray!' Then a shot rang out, echoing around the landscape!

Joe rounded a corner, panting hard, in time to see a desperate battle. Stevie had clearly managed to get a good dose of CS spray in James's eyes but seemed to have been affected himself. Both men had tears running down their cheeks and mucus hanging in great chains from their noses. They had been rendered temporarily blind.

But James was still fighting and was getting the best of Stevie. He'd dropped his gun, thank goodness! Joe could see it in the leaf litter near him. The shot must have gone wild as they struggled. As Joe ran towards them, he saw James strike Stevie's head viciously, knocking him to the ground. He sat astride his chest, just as he'd done to Joe at Castle Sinclair, and pulled a knife from his jacket pocket! James tried to push the knife into Stevie's throat. Stevie grabbed the massive man's wrists with both hands and was strained against him with all his strength!

Spotting Stevie's baton discarded nearby, Joe picked it up. He ran over to the struggling pair and whacked James on the side of the head as hard as he could, well aware of the thickness of the man's skull. James, shocked at the unexpected attack and still blinded, was knocked sideways off Stevie. The policeman didn't get up. He lay, moaning, barely conscious. His forehead was bleeding freely. Joe was on his own.

Meanwhile, James got to his feet. He started slashing the knife wildly in the air in roughly the direction his attacker had come from! He still couldn't see! Taking advantage, Joe walked quietly up to him. He hit his left shin, hard, with the baton, bringing him to his knees. The big man yelled unintelligibly, furious! Joe then struck the knife-bearing arm. The knife dropped from James's hand. Joe grabbed it and threw it out of reach. Joe drew back his fist to deliver a knock-out punch. Then he stopped. James couldn't see. He was still kneeling down, now clutching his arm and growling in pain. He looked beaten. Joe couldn't bring himself to do it. He dropped his fist.

Joe looked around, then reached down to the prone policeman's belt. He pulled his handcuffs out of their pouch. They were rigid cuffs with a double metal band for each wrist- made to inflict pain unless the prisoner stayed still. If he could get one on James he should be able to control the man by twisting them if necessary.

Joe circled carefully behind James, still wary of the man. He leapt in from behind and deftly clicked one cuff around James's left wrist. He pulled hard on the cuff, hoping to force the big man's arm behind his back then push him down onto his face.

But then Joe started to struggle. The cloud of CS spray was starting to affect him too! His face was burning and it was getting harder to see. He wiped at his eyes, keeping a tight hold of the handcuffs with his right hand.

Sensing Joe's sudden weakness, James lurched back to his feet. He tried to turn so he was face-to-face with the younger Hardy. Joe moved with him, staying behind him, determined not to relinquish the small amount of control he had over the man. Joe swore in frustration, wishing he'd taken James out when he'd had the chance.

Joe felt a sudden movement through the air towards him. He realised James was reaching around his own body with his right hand, lashing out behind himself in an effort to make Joe let go of the handcuffs. Joe automatically put his left arm out to block the attack. He felt a solid punch on his bicep that rendered his arm useless. It flopped down by his side. Grunting in pain, Joe hauled on the cuffs again with his good hand. James cried out, but he didn't budge! Then, without warning, James stepped back towards Joe, fast and hard, pushing into him and knocking him off balance. He then pulled away with all his strength. Joe stumbled and lost hold of the cuff! He found himself face-to-face with the giant man, one arm out of action and barely able to see!

Desperate, Joe took a step in towards his attacker, and lifted his knee, hard! He made contact, and the man dropped to the ground, crying out in pain, holding his crotch. Joe tried to move in to get proper control of the man while he was on the ground, but he felt light-headed all of a sudden and, instead, dropped to his knees.

His vision clearing slightly, Joe looked over at James. He was uncurling slowly, eyes fixed on Joe, white hot fury on his face. If James got to his feet before he did, he would be in real trouble! Joe forced himself up. He wobbled over to James and kicked out at his head. His aim was wild, but he clipped the side of the man's head. James finally sagged, unconscious.

Joe knelt down beside him in the mud, aware he should finish applying the handcuffs while he could. But he couldn't make his body work. He shook his head to clear it, wondering why he was so weak. He felt dizzy. He wondered vaguely if it was an after-effect of the CS spray. Joe became aware of movement around him again. Several uniformed police officers had materialised, as if from nowhere. Why did everything feel so distant?

'Shit, he's been stabbed!' he heard a voice shout. It sounded like Sam's. He wondered who she was talking about.

Frank's face appeared right in front of him. 'Joe, it's OK, you're gonna be okay!' He felt Frank's arm encircle his shoulders. He relaxed for a moment, still confused. Then he remembered- he wasn't letting Frank support him anymore! He had to push his brother away!'

Joe pulled away from him, pushing weakly at Frank with his good arm. 'No, Frank. I don't need your help. Leave me alone. Get off me.' Joe realised his words sounded slurred and he frowned, puzzled. He tried to push himself to his feet. He wobbled and went back down to his knees.

He saw Frank's face in front of him again, felt his hand on his cheek. He was making Joe meet his eye. 'Joe, listen! You've been stabbed. I know what you're doing but this isn't the time! Let. Me. Help. You!' Anger, frustration and fear were plain in his words and his expression.

Joe shook his head, trying to understand. That couldn't be true, he couldn't have been stabbed. Could he? He'd thrown James's knife away out of reach. He looked down at his useless arm for the first time. The hilt of a knife protruded from his bicep, the blade entirely embedded in his arm. His sleeve and the side of his body were wet with blood. There must have been a second knife! Joe swayed again. Frank moved in to catch him. With his last ounce of strength, Joe tried to push his brother away again. He failed, instead losing his own precarious balance. He fell backwards into the strong arms of some police officer. Joe gazed up blankly at Frank's face, barely registering his expression of horror at his brother's overt rejection. Everything went black.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10- BATTLE SCARS

Frank sat in the Accident and Emergency waiting area at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. The main doors opened and shut periodically, admitting a medley of people with shocked, worried faces, each completely immersed in their own personal tragedy. The silence in the room was punctuated by the occasional approach of wailing sirens, interspersed with anxious murmurings. The waiting room was glass-fronted and Frank stared blankly at the darkness outside. Night had fallen again somewhere along the way.

Joe had been rushed into theatre on his arrival to have the knife removed from his arm. The physical damage had been repaired, the lost blood had been replaced. Joe was going to be fine.

Frank had been with him when he had first woken up. Joe hadn't been able to meet his eye. Frank didn't know what to say to him. They had sat in silence until their father had arrived, then Frank had made his excuses and left them alone. Their father had gone again, some two hours ago, pausing on the way out to give him a 'Well done for everything, keep an eye on Joe' talk. Then he'd rushed back to see how the questioning of the suspects was going. Frank smiled sadly. He hadn't stopped for long enough to realise what was going on between the brothers. He didn't know if he was sorry or glad of that.

Frank hadn't gone back in to Joe's room. He'd been sitting in that waiting room ever since, unsure what to do, feeling physically sick and battling a growing sense of loss.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and turned his head. 'Sam! How's Stevie?'

Sam plonked herself down beside Frank and sat back. 'He's getting kept in under observation for the night- he's still seeing double. Bastard gave him a proper smack to the head. His wife's arrived finally. I left them to it.'

Frank raised his eyebrows. 'Huh. I kinda thought you two might actually be married, the way you bicker!'

Sam stuck out her tongue 'Yuk. No. He's my partner. Work partner. That's all.' She looked round at Frank's worried face. 'Joe will be fine, you know. He just needed patched up a bit. At least he better be fine, or I'll be so fired for taking you two with us.'

Frank smiled weakly. 'I know he will be. Everything's just…such a mess.'

'You mean between you two?'

Frank looked at her, surprised. He snorted. 'Yeah. That obvious?'

'Well if I'd just been stabbed I'd be squealing for Stevie to come and hold my hand, not pushing him away and telling him to leave me alone. It wouldn't matter who the hell was watching! I was under the impression you two were pretty tight but I guess not.'

Frank paused for a moment, not sure if he wanted to talk about it. Then he figured it couldn't hurt. 'Usually we are. He's my best friend, not just my brother. We've been through a lot together.'

'Yeah, believe it or not some of your captures are used as case studies at the Scottish Police College. Most officers who've joined in the last couple of years know about you. And you took down Al-Rousasa.'

Frank was stunned. He hadn't expected that. 'Well, yes.' He said, embarrassed.

'So what's gone wrong?' Seeing Frank's hesitation, Sam shrugged. 'You don't have to tell me. It's OK. But being in the police, we have to be able to talk to anyone about anything at any time. You spend most of the time trying to sort out people's domestic problems to be honest. I'm agony aunt come social worker come person who batons you on the head. So maybe I can help….Also, I'm also nosey and I just want to know. It will go no further. '

Frank smiled. Sam was no-nonsense, foul-mouthed and in-your face but he liked her.

'OK.' He took a deep breath. 'Joe's had a bad time. You know about Al-Rousasa. Did you know he murdered Joe's girlfriend?'

Sam shook her head, looking appalled.

'He blew her up. Joe blamed himself. He's been…not good….for months. But he's been getting better. He was just starting to be more like himself. Then, just before we came here, he overheard my girlfriend saying he was too dependent on me, that I was going to spend my life running about after him and never do what I really want to do. That she wanted out if I didn't stop spending time with him. And he heard me say I didn't find it easy. And that I _had _to look after him.' Frank shut his eyes, cringing, imagining how hurt Joe must have felt. 'So now he says he wants out, wants to go off and do his own thing so he knows I'm doing what I really want to do. So I don't have to take care of him anymore. And I guess it hurt me when he said it and when he wouldn't discuss it, and I've been saying things I regret to him ever since.' He laughed grimly. 'I'm just pushing him further away. Now we're barely speaking. He won't even let me help him when he's been stabbed, for God's sake! Some brother I am.' He put his face in his hands for a few moments, tears pricking his eyes without warning.

He felt Sam's hand on his shoulder. He waited, expecting some wise, sympathetic words.

'So basically you're telling me you're both idiots.' She said.

Frank raised his head in surprise. Then he smiled resignedly. 'I guess that would be a fair appraisal.'

Sam smiled at him sympathetically, her grey eyes twinkling. 'Right. OK. I could be way off but I'll say it as I see it. Neither of you are kids and you appear to work together fighting crime- so you're partners. Who happen to be brothers. Right?'

Frank nodded.

'And I'm guessing you're the older brother?'

Frank nodded again.

Sam smiled. 'So that's maybe part of the problem. I would say if it's always him leaning on you and always you looking out for him, that really _isn't_ healthy. That's not a partnership. He'll always be the little brother, never get the chance to grow up and stand on his own two feet. If you're partners you have to be equals. So does it work both ways? Can you lean on him too?'

Frank blinked a couple of times. 'For sure…..Okay, it's been one-sided of late. Since Iola died. But I know it's not usually. I'd turn to him before anyone else, no contest.'

'Hmmm. So when things get tricky with the bad guys, do you stand shoulder-to-shoulder or do you stand in front of him to protect him.'

'Shoulder to shoulder. Every time.'

'Good! That's the most important thing. Perhaps you need to draw a line in the sand, as it were. Tell him from here on, now he is doing better, you're going to give him more space. Tell him you're there if he needs you but don't just…hang about, waiting for him to fall apart. You'll have a stroke before you're 20! Save it for when he gets, you know, stabbed and so on…when he really does need support. And remind Joe you rely on him too if it's not gone that way for a while. If he feels like he really is leaning on you all the time it has to be bad for his self-confidence, which will make him lean more. Vicious circle.'

Frank sat back, leaning his head against the wall. Sam made a lot of sense. He sighed deeply. Maybe he was permanently set to over-protective big brother mode these days. That could be hard to change.

'Could you replace him?' queried Sam. 'As a partner I mean, obviously you couldn't as your brother.'

'No.' The answer was immediate, there was no doubt.

'OK. Could you replace Callie?'

This time, Frank hesitated. He loved her, but with the current state of affairs he couldn't really say 'no'.

'Let me answer that one for you, then. If it's not a resounding 'no', it's a 'yes'. You're a good looking guy, smart, not short of cash I should imagine. If I was ten years younger you'd need a pointy stick to beat _me_ off with. Yes you could replace her. There are girls out there who would understand your relationship with Joe. Try a cop!'

Frank reddened, surprised and flattered. He shook himself and re-focused the conversation on Joe. 'So you reckon it's fixable. It's not fundamentally unhealthy. If I back off a bit and let him stand on his own two feet we could still have a good partnership.'

Sam nodded.

'I always used to think we were fine. But Callie and Joe have me doubting it. We're just so tied up in each other. It must be affecting the way we work. Mustn't it? I don't know other people as close as we are. Without being married or something.'

'Er. OK. Do you know many police officers?

'Yes. Well, to speak to, not really personally. My dad was one.'

'But now he works alone.'

Frank nodded.

'Well, I've had a few partners. As in work, not sex. That's another story…. Having a good partner makes all the difference. Some partnerships work and some don't. Stevie Muldoon is the best. At the start of the shift, once we're briefed and out in the car, we talk. We catch up with every little thing that's happened since we were last together. We talk TV and politics, about who we're sleeping with and how good they are at it. We talk about stupid things we've done, we talk about mistakes and dying parents. Anything. No subject is off limits and we tell each other everything. Not because we have to, we just want to. We're as close as two people can be. And that doesn't mean I want to sleep with him. Far from it- he is so not my type! It just means he's my partner and the partnership is working. I know him better than his wife does.

Some folk just do _not_ get it. Facing danger together, having to know you can rely on each other no matter what happens, working as a team without even having to think about it. And picking each other up off the floor when it all goes wrong. It does make you close. People on the outside think it's weird. But they have no frame of reference. For them danger is paying the electricity bill the day their supply is going to get cut off. Excitement is a game of football. They just don't get it! It's their problem, not yours.

And me and Stevie's crime solvency figures are proof that a good partnership works. We're at 85%.'

Frank smiled. 'If we sort this thing out, Joe and I will still be on 100%.'

Sam's jaw dropped. 'Jesus! I thought me and Stevie were the best! Okay then. If you two are that good together for God's sake stay together! But it _has _to be as equals, not one of you propping up the other constantly. Talk to him. Agree on some boundaries you're both happy with.'

Frank shook his head. 'Easier said than done. He's made up his mind. I can't even get him to talk about it.'

'Why do you think that is?'

'Because he's a stubborn idiot.'

'No, really.'

Frank looked at Sam, then down at his shoes. 'Because it's too hard. I hurt him. And I guess he knows there's truth in what was said and he thinks he has the answer to the problem already.'

'And also maybe because he knows you _can _talk him out of it so he can't let you try? So _make _him let you try. Convince him of what you really do want. Fight for your partnership if it's what you want. Change what you have to change. Don't give in and throw it all away.'

Frank shook his head slowly, then looked at Sam. Why had it taken a 30 year old Scottish police woman who drove like a banshee and had only known them for two minutes to make him see the obvious?

'You're right, you know that? What do you charge for therapy?'

'Beer. Buy me a pint once this is over.'

Frank raised an eyebrow questioningly.

'No, I don't mean a date! You _are _well above average in the looks department. Both of you are! But, like I said, a bit on the young side for me. I meant come out on a police night out with all the guys on the team. I promise not to bite.'

Frank smiled at her. 'Deal. But what is it with everyone here and beer?'

'It's a social thing. Don't you drink?'

'Not much.'

'Oh well, I think you're OK anyway. Oh, hold on a minute.' Sam put her hand up to her earpiece, listening to a message. 'Roger, I'll find out.' she said into her radio.

'None of the suspects are talking, surprise surprise! The girl, Kay McLeod- she says she will. But she'll only speak to Joe. Shall we go see what state he's in?'

….

Joe was lying on a hospital bed in a private room. He was propped up on some pillows, staring at the wall. He felt like crap. His arm really hurt, worse than it had done when the knife was still in it. He wished Frank was with him. He'd have come up with something to say that would make him laugh, make everything better. But he had to show Frank he could manage without him, even when he was hurt.

There was a knock at his door. 'Come in' he croaked. The door opened. It was Sam.

'Hi. How you doing, tough guy?' she said, looking sympathetically at his arm.

'OK. Where's Frank?'

'Hiding outside your door, like a big girl. He wasn't sure you'd want to see him.'

'Oh.' Joe looked down. He did want to see Frank, more than anything. But the solid wedge that was forming between them could only make things easier for Frank in the long term. He could see Sam was waiting for him to say Frank could come in. But he said nothing.

After a moment, Sam said 'OK then. Kay McLeod. The girl from the Range Rover. She's at St Leonard's Police Station in the centre of Edinburgh. She's refusing to talk. But she says she'll speak to you. It's totally up to you. Don't do it if you're not up to it.'

Joe didn't hesitate. 'I'm up to it. Just give me five minutes to get dressed.'

'Sure. And Joe'

'Yeah?'

'Give Frank a chance. Listen to him.'

…

St Leonards Police Station was a strange and unattractive modern building at the edge of Edinburgh's Old Town. Its unattractiveness was magnified by its proximity to solidly attractive 19th century sandstone tenements. It was constructed from red brick and screamed 'small factory'.

Frank, Joe and Sam were directed to the third floor when they arrived. Joe was wearing a black police jacket, a spare one of Stevie's, over his bloodstained t-shirt. His own jacket had been beyond the point of salvage and he had left it in the hospital. Frank eyed him with concern as he slowly climbed the stairs in front of him, holding on tightly to the bannister with his good arm. His other arm was in a light sling, mostly to remind him not to use it. It had taken 50 stitches, internal and external, to mend the stab wound caused by James McLeod and his knife. Frank caught himself, remembering his conversation with Sam. Was he being the over-protective older brother? He looked again at Joe. No. He was right to be worried. Joe had just had an operation and should be taking it easy in hospital. But Frank hadn't voiced his concerns and he wouldn't. Joe was an adult and could decide what he was up to by himself. Not that he would have listened anyway.

'She's in here.' Sam said, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. 'You okay going in yourself? She's been searched, she's not armed.' Joe nodded. 'Right, we'll wait in the office next door.'

Joe knocked on the door then went in. Kay was sitting inside, leaning on a table. She was with a police woman who looked about the same age as him. 'Joe Hardy?' she said. He nodded. 'I'll leave you two to it.'

Joe waited while the policewoman went out, then sat down across the table from Kay. 'Hi.'

'Joe, I'm sorry. Sorry for everything.' she whimpered, looking at his arm, tears in her eyes.

Joe frowned, unimpressed. 'You say sorry a lot. Are you okay?'

'I don't know.'

Joe found himself wanting to back off entirely, her repeated betrayals at the front of his mind. 'You wanted to talk to me.' He said, his voice stern, challenging.

'Yes.'

Go on.'

'Please don't be so cold! Can't you see I like you?'

Joe's eyes widened in indignant disbelief. 'You have to be kidding! Kay, I tried to get you away from him. TWICE! You handed me right over to him! You _like _me!? For God's sake, you waved a gun in my face a few hours ago so, no, not really, I can't see that.'

Kay looked down at her hands, ashamed. The tears began to flow unchecked.

Joe shut his eyes for a second. He was going to have to be nice for the sake of getting information, if nothing else. He took a deep breath and tempered his tone. 'Why me, can I ask?'

'You said the first kind words I've heard in a while. I just wanted to try to explain things. What I did.'

Joe nodded. 'I'm listening.'

Kay took a deep breath. 'My mum died four years ago.'

Joe blinked, taken aback at the apparent shift in conversation. 'Sorry. How?'

'Fell from Midnight. The black horse.'

'Sorry.'

'Dad never recovered. Started drinking. Gambling. Lost the farm.'

'But…you still live there, don't you?' said Joe, confused.

'Sort of. Some Americans bought it. Never been over as far as I know. Just wanted to own the castle, I think. Why would anyone buy a farm when they didn't want to farm?' Joe shrugged. 'So we stayed.' Kay went on. 'Dad kept drinking. More and more.'

'When did he start hitting you?'

She started at his direct question. 'He always had. Mum kept him away from me most of the time. He hit her too. But after she died….I just got it all. My uncles moved in with us- Dad's brothers. They did the same.'

Joe closed his eyes, sympathy starting to re-emerge. What a miserable existence Kay must have had. He steeled himself, wanting to remain objective. 'So what can you tell me about what's been going on?'

'About 6 months ago the boats started coming at night. First I knew of it was when that Ed Campbell sent my dad and my uncles up the quads and the cars, so we could pick up the merchandise and deliver it to him in Cambusside. He even got us that hole of a flat to stay in. I don't even really know who he is or how dad knows him. He just kind of appeared in our lives.'

'What's the merchandise, Kay? What were they bringing in?'

'I don't know. Just boxes. All different things I think. Some were light, some were heavy. Then there was that man.'

'What happened to him? Where is he?'

'I don't know. Dad dropped me off at the flat at Cambusside. He and my uncles went off to deliver the batch of boxes and the man to Ed. Then they reappeared with Ed- I don't know what they'd done with the man. And Uncle Bill wasn't with them anymore, I don't know where he is either. I'm so sorry, Joe, I wish I could tell you more. If I ask anything, Dad just….well, you know.'

Joe nodded and smiled gently at Kay, looking at the fading bruises on her face. He was softening again. She really was so beautiful and had had such a hard life. He could understand her actions to an extent- she'd been terrified. 'Why did you help us?'

'It didn't seem to matter when it was just me getting hurt. But that poor French man, then Dad tying you two up to drown. He went too far. I'm sorry I didn't do more. I was just so scared of him.' her face crumpled again.

Joe put his hand on her arm. 'Kay, I can't pretend to understand some of the things you did. But thank you so much for getting us out of the sea. That was genuinely impressive and I'll never forget it. You've got it in you to be so brave. Please, try to hold on to that. You're safe now. You can have a fresh start.'

She smiled sadly. 'I don't know what I do now. All I ever wanted to do was work on the land. But I won't be able to stay at the farm now. I'll lose Midnight. End up somewhere like Cambusside.'

'I'll see if we can help you, okay?'

She smiled again, then looked intensely into his eyes, green eyes tinged with hope. 'You got a girlfriend?'

Joe hesitated, taken aback. 'No. Well, there may be someone but…it's complicated.'

'Would you ever think of going with someone like…me?'

Joe's found himself tongue-tied for a moment, then said 'Kay, you wouldn't want to get involved with me. I'm always late for dates, I flirt with anything that moves. I'm not great boyfriend material.'

Kay looked crestfallen. Joe felt terrible. He tried a less flippant answer. 'OK, you're beautiful and for all you kept siding with that monster of a father of yours, for some reason, I still like you. But we're strangers. I don't know you at all. You don't know me. And it wouldn't be fair- you're so vulnerable right now it would be like taking advantage.'

'No it wouldn't. I know what that is- it's happened to me all my life. It would be like finally giving me something I really want.' She paused 'Maybe that's why I find you so attractive. I can see some vulnerability in you too.'

Joe reached over and stroked her face gently. He still felt drawn to her, he couldn't explain why. But it would be wrong, for many reasons. 'I'm sorry. I'm just…. such a mess right now. Stuff has happened and….. and you don't need your life any more complicated than it is. Do you understand?'

Kay smiled sadly and nodded.

'Will you speak to the police? Please? Tell them what you told me?'

'Okay.' She nodded. Joe got up to leave the room. 'Wait, Joe, I remembered something else.'

'Really? What?'

'I think the merchandise might have been for some biker gang. Dad mentioned some group once that sounded like a biker gang anyway…..The Assassins.'


	11. Chapter 11

I've lost the will to serialise...rest of story to follow in a wee while when I get back from the shops!

CHAPTER 11- BATTLE LINES

Joe Hardy sat on a plain wooden chair, leaning forward, good arm resting on the window ledge an empty office in St Leonards Police Station. He gazed out of the window into the grey distance. Raindrops ran down the window pane, blurring his view. He didn't care. His mind was a million miles away.

He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He reached into the collar of his shirt and fingered a set of melted keys on the chain around his neck. The keys that had been in Iola's hand when she had died.

He was still reeling about the link between their case and the Assassins. He'd been so engaged with what they were doing he had been thinking about Iola….less. But now he had crashed back to square one. He was tired, he was sore. He wasn't over what had happened to Iola and it had been thrust back in his face. They were going to face The Assassins again. Darkness gripped his mind. At the same time he could feel a new fire being stoked in his belly at the prospect of getting another crack at terrorist group he despised so much.

He drew a deep, shaky breath. He needed Frank. He wanted so badly to let his brother back in. He was in turmoil. He missed Frank's steadying influence and he wanted his partner by his side. But he couldn't back down now. He didn't want Frank to feel obliged to scrape him off the floor yet again. He'd pushed him away so many times he'd be lucky if Frank would want to have anything to do with him again anyway.

He wasn't even sure where his brother was. When Joe had come out of the interview room, he had gone straight to Frank. He'd told him and Sam what Kay had said. They had looked horrified. Frank had told Joe to sit here and wait for them. Joe wondered vaguely just how long he had been waiting now. He stiffened as he heard a footstep behind him. He knew instantly who it was- Frank had come in silently while he was lost in thought.

Frank's deep, gentle voice spoke behind him. 'I've spoken to the officer in charge, Inspector Watt. He understands what this means. He's summoned other senior officers for a briefing. And he's getting Dad in too. He's on his way here.'

There was no reaction from Joe.

'Joe. Can we talk?'

Joe didn't reply. He wasn't sure what to say.

'OK', Frank said, patiently. 'I'm going to talk to you. Will you listen?'

After a moment, Joe nodded, still facing away from his brother. He felt Frank's hand on his shoulder.

Joe shrugged him off half-heartedly. 'You don't have to do this anymore.' he murmured.

Frank put his hand back on Joe's shoulder, gripping it firmly.

'I never had to, Joe. But I _want_ to. You're my best friend and you always have been. Whatever you want to do in life, I'll support you. I'm so sorry for what I said and for how I spoke to you. I never meant to hurt you. I've not handled this well at all. If you _really_ don't want to be my partner anymore I'll deal with that. But it's not what I want by a long way. I could never replace you!

But even if you do really want to end our partnership, please don't try to stop me being your _brother _as well. Callie didn't get it. I _want_ to be there for you, whether it's easy or hard. You're not a kid, I know you don't need looking after. And I realise now I have been over protective since Iola died. That really is no good for either of us and I promise you Joe, I'm going to take a step back, give us both more space. But when you're really hurting….like now… I want to try to help, try to make things easier. I'm missing out on nothing by being there for my best friend when he's genuinely needing support. Anyone who doesn't get that doesn't belong in my life! And it works both ways, Joe. I want you to be there to support _me wh_en _I_ need it, because no one knows me better than you and I know I can rely on you. Completely.'

Frank could feel Joe trembling slightly under his touch. He closed his eyes, feeling his brother's pain and confusion radiating from him.

'Joe, I'm fighting every instinct I've got here. I'm trying not to be there to support you because that's what you say you want. Is it really what you want? This is killing me! Please let me back in.'

Joe finally turned his head. He looked up at Frank, blue eyes swimming with tears. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. A single tear ran down his cheek. Frank took a chance and stepped forwards, putting his arms round his brother and pulling him close. Joe didn't resist. He rested his forehead on Frank's shoulder. He closed his eyes, drawing strength from his brother. He could feel his resolve slipping. He was just trying to do the right thing. Had he really got it so wrong?

'Let's get them, Joe. You and me, together. They'll have no chance.' Frank's tone was soft.

Joe finally spoke. 'Yeah. Let's get them.'

Then the door opened behind them. Frank stepped back from Joe and turned to the door, cursing the timing of the interruption. Joe turned his face away, pretending to be looking out of the window.

DI Watt stepped through the door. The tall, balding man frowned a little, sensing the atmosphere in the room. 'Is everything OK?' Frank nodded. 'Good. Right, we're briefing downstairs in five minutes. I want you there if you're up to it.'

'Yes, of course.'

The man stood back and held the door open. 'Come with me.'

…..

The boys were shown in to the briefing room. A dozen uniformed officers, both police and army, sat round a large table, the metalwork on their shoulders demonstrating their high ranks. The brothers sat down, unsure what to expect. The door opened again and their father walked in. He rushed over to them and embraced them in turn. 'Frank, Joe. You've done good work, boys. Really good work. This is all getting rather…complicated.'

'Right, that's everyone here. Let's get going' said DI Watt. 'We're lucky that Fenton Hardy, one of the world's leading experts on the terrorist group known as The Assassins, happens to be in Edinburgh and has been helping us over the last 24 hours. Thanks to his sons, we know that The Assassins are active in the area, and may in possession of component parts of a binary chemical weapon. They also have Dr Pierre Dauphin, one of the top weapons engineers in the world, as their prisoner. There can be little doubt an attack is imminent.

As you will all know, there is an obvious target. The G8 summit is due to begin at 0930 hours tomorrow in the Great Hall of Edinburgh Castle. Leaders from the most powerful countries in the world will be present under one roof.'

Frank and Joe looked at each other. They had known G8 was due to be held in the UK imminently, of course, but hadn't registered that it was in Edinburgh. Everything fell into place.

DI Watt went on 'The world leaders have been briefed. They are _not _in favour of changing the arrangements for the summit. I disagree with them, but at the end of the day, they are in charge. Our job is to keep them safe. There are advantages in having the summit at the castle- it is naturally well-defended and it is easy to control movement in and out of it. We already have a cordon in place at the castle excluding everyone but essential staff. We are in the process of setting ucp an outer cordon taking in most of the old town. All persons will be checked coming in and out. We have police and military aircraft patrolling the airspace above the city.

We do _not _know who we are looking for. We have photos here of known operatives for The Assassins who are believed to be in the UK. Remember these faces and look through the file at the others. If you see anyone even vaguely looking like one, floor them immediately. No niceties. We'll worry about the legal technicalities afterwards.

We can't let this attack happen. Now disseminate the information and get everyone available out there. The more eyes on the street the better. Thank you.'

DI Watt came over to Frank and Joe. 'You boys have as much experience of this group as anyone. We would appreciate your involvement as eyes on the ground within the inner cordon. If you're up to it.' He looked at Joe. Joe nodded. His blood was boiling, Iola's untimely demise at the forefront of his mind. He was ready for action.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12- A CITY BENEATH THE CITY

Frank and Joe Hardy walked slowly together through the streets of Edinburgh's Old Town. Frank glanced briefly at Joe. He couldn't help wondering if his brother was really up to this. He looked tired and pale. Still, determined not to be over-protective, Frank kept his mouth shut. He was well aware that Joe was still avoiding eye contact with him. He knew he had got through to his brother to an extent, but whether it was enough to sway his decision to end their partnership, he didn't yet know. He knew his brother well enough to be sure that his stubborn nature would kick in if he tried to push him and they would be back to square one. He couldn't risk that. So he gave Joe space he had promised him. He focused on the job at hand.

The heart of Edinburgh was built on the remains of a long-extinct volcano. The castle was on the highest point of the rocky crag, surrounded by steep cliffs on three sides. On the fourth side, the ground sloped steeply downwards from the castle towards the sea a handful of miles away. Old Edinburgh had spread slowly from the castle walls down this steep slope.

A twisting network of cobbled streets and winding closes fanned out from the main road, the Royal Mile, which ran straight down the middle of the slope from the castle. Narrow flights of steps and passages ran under buildings, connecting the old roads, seemingly here, there and everywhere. It was a tourist's dream. And a policing nightmare. There were a thousand places to hide and routes to take. The police had settled on the best option. The only option. They had set up a cordon around the whole of the Old Town in the hope the terrorists had yet to enter the area. If they _were_ already inside the cordon, they would have to pray whatever means of attack had been chosen required the faceless terrorists to enter the inner cordon at the castle or show themselves in a public way to work.

The Hardys, along with around 100 police officers, were sweeping the old town, hoping to be able to catch the Assassin operatives before they could strike. There was talk amongst the ranks of a portable missile launcher- it seemed a logical suggestion. A binary chemical missile launched from virtually anywhere in the old town could hit the Great Hall of Edinburgh Castle, releasing deadly sarin gas and wiping out the world's most powerful leaders, along with who knows how many other people.

Frank and Joe had been given bullet proof vests to wear under their civvies, 'covert-cuffs'- which proved to be extra thick cable ties, plus personal radios. They had been warned that the police radios wouldn't work inside many of the old buildings- the walls were just too thick. They had to call in if they were going inside _anywhere._

The brother made their way slowly up the Royal Mile, looking at a sea of faces as they went by. It was 9am and already the streets were getting busy, filling with students, office workers, road-sweepers, street actors, tourists. All possible suspects. They couldn't let their concentration lapse for a second. The noise of bagpipe music drifted eerily through the streets from elsewhere in the city.

Frank's eye fixed on a man on the opposite side of the road. He was queuing to see some tourist attraction- 'Mary King's Close'. Frank couldn't see his face properly. It could have been his imagination, but it seemed like the man was trying to _hide _his face. He nudged Joe. 'Black jacket in the queue over there.'

'Could be. He does seem to be trying to avoid attention.'

The queue moved into a narrow close passing under a building and out of sight. Frank and Joe crossed the road and approached a lady dressed in a 17th century costume. She was selling tickets.

'Is there another way out of here.'

She shook her head. 'Would you like to buy tickets?'

'Maybe later. What is it anyway?'

'Ah, I'm glad you asked, young man!' said the lady, stepping automatically into her tourist-spiel. 'Mary King's Close is a street buried deep beneath the Royal Mile. It's the city's deepest secret- one of a warren of hidden streets that has remained frozen in time since they were sealed off in the 17th Century. The buildings you see today were built on top of them, but they survive, an underground city 3 storeys high! They say they were buried because they were rife with the plague and there certainly are ghostly goings-on down there….why just last week….'

'Hold on a minute' interrupted Frank. 'Are you telling me there are more streets underground.'

'Yes!'

'Do they go up to the castle?'

'Ah, no one really knows for sure. There is a legend of an underground tunnel that goes all the way from the old city to the castle, but one has never been found. I think it's just an urban myth. Archaeologists have looked for a tunnel in the castle but found none. But the full extent of the underground city isn't known, so much has been bricked up through the years. We know there are other parts of it- like the vaults under South Bridge. Why the ghost of a tiny child was seen disappearing through….'

Frank jumped in again, trying to stay on topic. 'So there is an underground city and no one knows the full extent of it.'

'Exactly, young man. You're very astute.'

'Can people get in here unescorted?'

'Well, there several people with keys. It's not unknown. But come on the tour, let me sell you your tickets! I'm on commission here.' Her smile was becoming fixed.

At that moment, the tour group re-emerged. But one member of the group was missing.

Joe rushed over and grabbed the leader of the tour group by the jacket. 'There was another man in that group. Where is he?'

'He… he gave me 50 pounds.' said the hapless man, a young student. 'Said he wanted to stay down for a bit again. See if he saw any ghosts. He does it sometimes. Don't tell my boss, he'll fire me!'

'Frank, it's 9.15. The summit starts in 15 minutes. Come on, this is it!' said Joe grimly. He shoved his way in past the staff. Frank paused for long enough to use his radio, remembering there would be no reception once they went underground. 'Frank Hardy to control- possible target has entered the underground city at Mary King's Close. We're in pursuit.'

'Oi, you've not paid!' yelled the lady. 'I'll call the police!'

'Good', Frank shouted back to her, running after Joe.

The boys ran through a narrow passage under the façade of shops and flats that formed the north side of the Royal Mile. They followed the signs for Mary King's Close, turning right in the courtyard behind the buildings and entering a door that lead to a series of steep steps, lit atmospherically by strategically-placed lights. They seemed to be descending into the bowels of the earth.

They ran through a door at the bottom of the steps and stopped short. 'It really is an underground city!' gasped Joe. They were at the head of a street, poorly lit by modern lights. It sloped downhill into the distance. High buildings lined both sides of the narrow street, sealed forever beneath the ground. The air smelt damp and musty. The atmosphere was extraordinary. They could well believe plague victims had been walled in, left to die in the dark 300 years earlier.

Overcoming his awe, Frank said 'Right, let's split up, you check the rooms on the right, I'll check the left. OK?' They started working their way methodically down the street, entering each building in turn, searching rooms which must have been people's houses, shops, who knows what else. Joe shuddered when he entered an arched room with large metal hooks hanging from the ceiling. 'The butcher's. I hope' he muttered. Then he heard Frank shout. 'Joe, here.'

Joe sprinted across the underground road to the room he had last seen Frank enter. 'Joe, look.' He was at the back of the room. 'If I'm right, this wall is on the same side as the castle. And look.' There was an old, empty bookshelf at the back of the room. Frank reached between the shelves and pushed gently at the wooden backing panel. It swung!

'No way, a secret door?!' exclaimed Joe. 'Come on, let's go.' He squeezed his muscular body between two of the lower shelves then rolled, pushing the backing panel as he went. He landed with a thump on the ground at the other side, wincing as his injured arm was jarred. He got up on his knees and pulled his pen torch out of his pocket. He looked around cautiously, then jumped at a thumping noise behind him. But was just Frank following him. He exhaled in relief.

They appeared to be in a narrow passageway, heading uphill. It was going towards the castle.

...

Footnote- Mary Kings Close is real, as is the urban myth about a passage to the castle. The close was, until the 90's, closed to the public and a genuinely scary place to visit if you were lucky enough to be able to arrange it. It's now open to the public and stock full of costumed actors and paraphernalia designed to 'bring it to life'. It's no longer to my taste, but still well worth a visit!


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13- INTO THE LAIR

The boys made their way steadily along the passage, keeping as quiet as they could. The passage looked new. Purpose built. It ran uphill towards the castle and had been cut through anything and everything that had been in its path. Underground buildings, streets, solid bedrock. The quarried and dislodged material had been dumped unceremoniously down the long-forgotten streets. It was a feat of engineering that had respected nothing. The structural integrity was highly questionable- scaffolding rods had been crudely propped in sections where the material overhead looked particularly unstable. Other sections seemed to be holding together by sheer will power. The tunnel wasn't built to last. Just to facilitate one job. A blue, flexible plastic pipe had been laid along the floor of the tunnel. The open end had lain beside the false cupboard. Where the other end was remained to be seen.

Frank shuddered as the passage widened again- the builders had struck another void. A room in a house. Two skeletons clung to each other on the floor of the room, held in recognisable form by their age-stiffened clothes. They appeared to have died in each others' arms- the result of some long forgotten tragedy, centuries ago. And now they had been rudely disturbed by burrowing terrorists intent on causing yet more death.

How on earth had The Assassins achieved this without being detected? They couldn't have achieved it by sneaking in and out of the tourist attraction. Could they? How long had it taken? How long had they been planning this? Questions floated through the Hardys' heads and left again, unanswered. All that mattered was stopping The Assassins in their tracks.

Frank had left his jacket stuck down the back of one of the shelves in the false cupboard, holding the secret door ajar a fraction. Back-up should be able to find them. But, until they came, the brothers were on their own.

…

Joe tried to estimate in his mind how close they might be to the castle. They had been walking slowly, cautiously, for around 10 minutes. The vestiges of the underground city had given way to pure quarried bedrock- the passage makers had been cutting through virgin ground. They had to be close to the castle rock itself, if not inside it already. The air was incredibly stale, the stench of damp and rot almost overpowering.

And then, suddenly, the air changed. It was fresher- there had to be a connection to the world above-ground somewhere ahead. But it was marred by the acrid punch of chemicals. The brothers heard a humming noise, like a generator. Then the dim glow of a light steadily materialised ahead.

Scarcely daring to breathe, the two boys pushed onwards, side by side. As they approached the light, they moved to the sides of the passage, clinging to the shadows. A chamber widened out in front of them, again carved from the rock itself. The boys froze in horror at what they saw before them.

An enormous tank, perhaps ten metres across and a metre deep, dominated the room. There were two smaller tanks inside it, with swirling chemicals visible inside both. They were separated by a thick metal wall within the main tank. The wall was all that prevented the chemicals from mixed, all that stopped an unimaginable volume of sarin being created. Once formed, the unstable liquid would convert itself to gas and be released into the chamber.

And there were explosives attached to the dividing wall. A figure, clad in protective white suit and gas mask, was concentrating on…something….at the back of the big tank. Wires ran from the explosive charges to the area he was working. A timer?

Blue plastic pipes lead from the tanks in all directions, disappearing into gaps in the wall, the roof, off up a passage on the opposite side of the room and down the passage the boys had come along. The mechanism by which the sarin gas would be distributed into the castle and, from the look of it, all around the old town, was apparent. Thousands would die, not just the world leaders!

A shrill voice from the chamber made the Hardys jump.

'Non, s'il vous plait, non! Vous tuerez tous les gens.'

Pierre Dauphin, the weapons engineer. Joe wracked his brain, trying to remember his High School French. It hadn't been his favourite subject by a long way, but he had been able to speak a little at one time. That time seemed to have passed. Beyond 'no, please, no' he found himself unable to translate. They couldn't see the man, but both of the boys could understand the terror in his voice and had no trouble working out the reason.

The Assassin working at the tank appeared to have completed his task and moved out of sight in the chamber. 'Shut up, frog!' said a harsh voice. There was the noise of flesh being struck then a dull thud. 'We've finished with him now anyway. Let's do a final check of the pipes up to the Hall then get the hell out of here. The noise of footsteps echoed down the passage, gradually fading, as the men disappeared up the other tunnel.

The Hardys moved forward into the chamber as one. They went over to the prone figure of Pierre Dauphin. He lay crumpled on the floor at the back of the room, blood trickling from a wound on his forehead.

'Mr Dauphin' whispered Joe, touching his neck. He was alive. His eyes fluttered open and he looked in surprise at the boys, barely conscious. 'Mr Dauphin. How do we stop this?'

The scientist opened his mouth and attempted to speak. No sound came out. He cleared his throat weakly. 'Il faut…..débrancher…' he rasped.

'I'm sorry, I don't understand you.' whispered Joe. 'Do you speak English? I'm sorry. We're going to get help.' Dauphin's eyes rolled back in his head. He had fallen unconscious again.

Frank's quaking voice interrupted the exchange. 'Joe…..look.' Frank had walked away from them, round the back of the tank, to see what the man in the protective gear had been doing.

Joe went over to him. His jaw dropped. There was a timer and a detonator. The timer was already counting down. Three minutes 15 seconds to go. 'Oh, shit! No, no no! Can you stop it?'

'I'm going to have to try.' Frank pulled out his penknife and unscrewed the cover of the timer, trying to stop his hands shaking. He threw the cover to one side and looked at the wires inside. 'I think I can do it, Joe. But I could do with ten minutes, not three!'

At that moment, they heard footsteps. The terrorists were returning!

'Joe, I need time. Give me time.' Frank whispered.

Joe put his hand on Frank's shoulder. 'Just keep going, I'll handle this.'

Joe positioned himself firmly between Frank and the passage the men were approaching from. He shrugged off his sling, dropped into a defensive stance and waited, hands bunched into fists. A bead of sweat ran from his forehead into his eye. He shook his head and cleared it. For a second, an image of Iola popped into his mind. His lips thinned. These guys might not have killed her, but they were going to pay.

Two men emerged from the tunnel, one about the same size as Joe at 6 foot tall with a similar lean, muscular build. The other was a few inches taller and heavily built, making his colleague look tiny. The terrorists froze, taking in the scene, their reactions hidden by their masks.

The smaller man raised his mask. It was Kay's missing uncle, Bill McLeod. He drew a gun. Joe launched himself at the man, kicking the gun out of his hand and punching him hard in the face in one smooth move. McLeod fell to the ground, stunned. His gun clattered across the floor, coming to rest beside the French scientist.

Joe turned to face the second man. A strange feeling of déjà vu hit him as his clocked the size of the him.

Big Terrorist lashed out wildly at Joe, who jerked back out of range, glancing over towards the gun. The man anticipated he was going to go for it and threw himself towards it at exactly the same moment. They collided, bumping across the rock floor together and coming to a halt short of the gun. Big Terrorist grabbed Joe's jacket and growled in his face, pulling him to his feet. Joe started punching out at his head repeatedly. His strikes were good and true but seemed to made little impression. Shouting aggressively, Joe headbutted the man square in the plastic mask.

Big Terrorist stumbled backwards, his vision surely marred by the splattered blood in the inside of his visor. But he came at Joe again, swinging a powerful punch at his face. Joe threw up his good arm to block the knock-out blow and was partially successful. The giant fist glanced off the side of his head. He saw stars and his vision blanked out for a second. He felt a gush of blood running down the side of his face. He shook his head to clear it, just in time to see the fist coming in for a second attempt. He ducked, then jumped up as soon the fist passed over his head, this time head-butting the man on the chin.

Big Terrorist let go of Joe and he dropped to the ground, silent. Joe followed him, kneeling astride his back, hand going into his jacket to pull out cable ties to restrain him.

But Joe didn't make it. He dropped face-down on the floor as Bill McLeod hit him on the head from behind, using both hands together as a club. Joe fought to stay conscious and keep moving. In one smooth movement he flipped onto his back and kicked up. He hit the man's knee, taking his leg out from under him. McLeod fell forward, partly on top of Joe, who wriggled quickly out from underneath him. The man threw a flailing fist at him as he got up, happening to strike Joe's stab wound. Joe cried out and sagged back down to the ground. McLeod noted the padding under Joe's jacket and his pained reaction. He grinned wolfishly, sensing he'd found Joe's Achilles Heel, little realising it had been caused by his own brother.

The man got to his knees and punched Joe repeatedly on his stab wound. Excruciating pain and nausea hit Joe. For a second he thought he was going to pass out. Then Joe heard Frank's voice penetrating through the wall of pain. 'Joe! Get up! I need more time!' Gritting his teeth and growling in frustration, he kicked out at the man, hitting him in the groin and propelling himself just out of reach in one move. Joe heard a groan behind him and turned. Big Terrorist was coming round!

'Frank? How you coming?' he called nervously. There was no reply. Frank was lost in concentration again.

Joe looked at the two men, assessing his options. Big Terrorist was up on his knees and about to stand. McLeod was clutching his crotch and howling. He went for Big Terrorist. Joe got up and ran at him, throwing everything he had left at him. He punched, elbow-struck and kneed the man in a relentless flurry of blows, felling him before he could retaliate. Then he rolled the groaning man onto his front and pulled out his bag of cable ties, trussing his wrists and ankles. Meantime, he was watching McLeod crawl along the floor, still nursing his crotch. He was making for the gun, slowly but surely.

Big Terrorist secured, Joe sprinted for McLeod. He punched the side of his head, flooring him, then sat on his back. He pulled out the cable ties again and secured his wrists. He turned and was about to secure the man's ankles when…

_BANG!_

There was a gunshot. Joe fell on his face and lay, writhing in pain! Frank looked up in horror. A third man had appeared from the other tunnel! He didn't notice Frank straight away, but walked slowly over to Joe and kicked him, hard, in the side. Joe curled up, gasping for air. Third Terrorist watched him for a moment, then kicked him in the head, twice. Joe stopped moving.

Frank gritted his teeth together, sweating, trying to keep quiet to buy himself precious seconds, while his heart was screaming for him to go and help Joe. He couldn't. He had to stop the bomb or they would be dead anyway! 30…29….28….27…..two more wires to go. Snip….snip. The timer stopped. Frank shut his eyes and let out a breath his didn't know he was holding. He looked up. Straight into the face of Third Terrorist.

'What do you think you're doing?' said the man, coldly, calmly. He stuck his gun into Frank's gut.

'Stopping you!' spat Frank, voice shaking with emotion.

The man laughed. 'Sorry son, I planned for that.' He stripped off his protective mask, revealing a hard, scarred face Frank recognised from the photos show to them by DI Watt. A hard core Assassin. The man inhaled the acrid air deeply 'I'm ready to meet my maker. Are you?'

'What?' breathed Frank, looking into the cold eyes of the man who was attempting to kill half of Edinburgh. Then the man grunted. His eyes rolled back and he fell to the ground, out cold.

Frank's jaw dropped. 'Joe!' His brother was standing behind the Assassin, swaying precariously, the left side of his face a mask of blood. There was a brick in his hand. Joe dropped his brick and sank down to his knees. Frank took a step towards him, then heard a 'beep' behind him. 'Oh no!' he exclaimed.

A back-up timer had flashed on. It was counting down from 25 seconds!

'No! Not enough time!' Frank yelled, frantically trying to work out how to stop it.

Joe was, by now, only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. He tried to stay up on his knees, wobbling to and fro. He focused idly on a cable crossing the floor in front of him. The scientist's words went through his mind. _Il faut _…..you must…. _débrancher _….

Débrancher, débrancher, débrancher - the word was dancing through his dazed mind, taunting him. Once upon a time he had known that verb….Then suddenly it came back to him!

'Débrancher …..to unplug!' he exclaimed.

'_What_?' yelled Frank 'no Joe, that can't be right, bombs don't work like that, don't do it!'

Barely registering Frank's words, Joe grabbed the cable and pulled it hard. It was plugged into an extension cable which lead to the generator. The extension cable skittered over to Joe and he pulled out the plug with shaking fingers. He forced himself to his feet, staggering a couple of steps closer to Frank.

'Did I just unplug his TV or what?' he managed to say.

Frank's reply was hesitant, disbelieving. 'I think…..I think you stopped the bomb, Joe! Oh my god, you stopped it!' The numbers had stopped counting down- it had frozen on 3 seconds.

'No way. Seriously?'

Frank ran over to his brother. 'You did it, I can't believe it worked! Joe, are you OK? Where were you shot?'

'Vest.' Joe mumbled, trying to muster a smile. The beating he had had was taking its toll. The room seemed to be spinning crazily around him. Every part of his body was screaming at him, telling him to give in and fall to the ground. He staggered, just catching himself.

Frank put his arms out to help Joe, then hesitated for a second. 'You gonna let me help you?' he said softly.

Joe smiled vaguely in his direction, not quite able to focus. 'That'd be nice.'

Frank then grabbed him, putting both arms around him. He guided him to the wall and helped him into a seated position, so he was leaning against the hewn rock. He knelt down in front of him, unzipped Joe's jacket and tore open the Velcro securing the vest. He patted his brother's torso gently, looking for damage. 'No bullet holes? You sure?'

Joe groaned. 'Still hurts you lug.'

'Sorry! Look at me Joe.' He put a hand under Joe's chin, lifting his face gently, wanting to see if Joe could still focus properly- he'd had a good few hefty knocks to the head. Joe opened his eyes and locked on to Frank's. They gazed at each other for a moment.

Frank smiled suddenly. 'I cannot _believe_ you unplugged it and it just stopped!' he said, shaking his head.

Joe grinned in return. 'That's nothing- I can't believe I remembered a French verb!'

Frank started laughing. Joe joined in, then reached up and poked his brother's chest. 'Hey, we did it! How good are we?!'

'No, you did it, Joe! '

'No, _we _did it. Just like we always do.' Joe rested his head back against the wall and shut his eyes again.

Frank looked at him intently, again feeling that flicker of hope that their partnership might not be dead after all. He opened his mouth to say as much but, taking in Joe's bloody, battered face, bit back the words. Joe was barely conscious. This was not the time for a heart to heart. It was enough for the moment to know that they were back on good terms again. And their teamwork was better than ever!

'I'd better restrain these idiots and check out the scientist. You OK for a minute, tough guy?'

'Hell, yeah.' mumbled Joe.

Frank pulled his 'covert cuffs' out of his pocket and finished the job Joe had started, checking the terrorists were breathing as he secured them. They were all alive. They would face the justice system for their crimes.

He ran over to Dr Dauphin. He was still out cold but his vitals seemed strong.

Sounds of movement started to echo up the tunnel from the Mary King's Close end. Frank opened an eye….would it be friend or foe? Then he heard their father's voice, calling 'Frank, Joe!'

'Here!' Frank yelled back. He wandered back over to Joe and flopped down beside him, suddenly finding himself completely exhausted as his adrenaline dissipated.

Fenton came running through the door, armed police officers behind him. He looked frantic with worry. The great detective looked at the chemical device in horror, clocked the range of unconscious men, then turned to see his boys. They were lying propped against the wall together, eyes closed, Joe bruised and bloody.

He ran over to them and crouched down in front of them, placing a hand on Joe's knee. 'Boys? Are you OK? What's the situation?'

Frank opened his eyes, raised his eyebrows and looked at his father, 'Secret tunnel, terrorists, scientist, binary chemical bomb, plug.' He said, pointing to each relevant item in turn. As he said 'plug', Joe spluttered and started laughing again, setting Frank off. Fenton looked at his boys in confusion as they giggled together like school kids.

Frank reached forwards and put a hand on his arm. 'Sorry dad, it's been a long day.'

Joe nodded in agreement, cracking open an eye to watch as police officers came in and started tending to the casualties. 'I need a holiday.'


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14- CROSSROADS

The rest of the day seemed like a surreal blur. After what seemed like half the police in Edinburgh had turned up in the underground vault, Frank had mustered the energy to help his brother back out along the tunnel. Their father had tried to get him to wait for a stretcher, but not way was Joe doing that!

They had emerged into the warm morning sun, met by a throng of spectators and press, draw by the sudden influx of a fleet of police vehicles to Mary King's Close. The boys had then been whisked past them into a waiting ambulance and taken back to the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. This time, Joe had been more than happy for Frank to stay with him while he was assessed and treated. He was totally exhausted, physically and mentally, and accepted his brother's support without protest.

Joe had been X-rayed, his stab-wound re-stitched, and brand new cuts on his forehead and cheek stitched too. He looked…..well, like he had just fought three crazed terrorists solo. He had got off lightly. He had been given some pleasant painkillers and had fallen asleep. He had mild concussion thanks to the punishment his head had taken, but he was being allowed out of hospital. The boys' father was on his way to pick them up. Joe would have to be woken every hour for at least 12 hours to ensure he didn't have undetected bleeding in his brain- routine with head injuries. Frank had been pretty happy when their father had insisted he would take on that job to allow Frank to get some proper sleep. He was exhausted and the idea of poking his grumpy, tired brother each hour didn't do much for him!

Frank watched Joe sleeping for a while as he waited for their father. Images of the parts of his brother's epic battle he had seen while he struggled with the timer flashed through his head. Joe had been fearless, tenacious and brilliant. His partner, who had his back, whatever it took, not some kid needing looked after. Frank was overcome with determination. He knew he was on the way to fixing the mess between them, but he realised he _had _to. There was _nothing _else he wanted to do but work with the man in front of him, standing shoulder to shoulder against the bad guys, proud to call him his best friend and brother.

Frank got up to stretch his legs, thinking he'd have a quick look to see how Stevie was. He found him instantly! He was back in uniform already, sitting with Sam at the bedside of Pierre Dauphin in the curtained cubicle beside Joe's. Sam had her notebook out- it looked like she was in the middle of taking a statement.

'Sorry, I'll come back' said Frank with a wave.

'Frank, wait!' Sam called. 'This is one of the men who saved the city!' she to Dauphin.

'Oui' said Dauphin, smiling broadly. 'I remember you from under the ground.'

'You speak English!' Frank said in surprise.

'Yes, so-so. When no one is hitting my head. But you understood my French? I tell you what to do?'

'Eventually. My brother got it. Why did it work? Why did it stop the explosion?'

Dauphin smiled tiredly. 'They made me build the device. So I built in a way to stop it. It was set up with its own batteries for the timer but I said they had to be plugged in so it would be fully charged. But it was never connected to the batteries- I had put in a bypass behind them that they couldn't see. It was always a direct connection to the generator. So obvious they didn't notice it. They were too busy thinking of pipes and detonators and timers to notice. I had hoped to have the chance to disconnect it myself, but they didn't leave me alone for a second. I just thank goodness you were there and understood!'

Frank shook his head in disbelief. 'Well done. Good thinking! Do you know how they got all that stuff into the underground city?'

Dauphin shrugged. 'I know they took me in late at night. They had a key. I presume everything went in that way.'

Frank nodded. That made sense. The terrorists couldn't possibly have blagged their way in as tourists all the time. They had to have had their own means of access to the place. He shook his head again, still trying to get his head around what The Assassins had achieved in the centre of a busy city. They had been bloody lucky to catch them when they did.

'So I hear you and Joe are coming on a police night out?' said Stevie with a wicked smile.

'I guess so. We could do with some sleep first.'

'Fair enough. Tomorrow night, 7 o'clock, The Advocate at the Tron Square. Be there.'

Frank grinned, looking forward to it already.

…..

The boys weren't big drinkers as a rule, but a good night on the town and a few pints of beer was how celebrating was done by the Edinburgh police, and when in Rome…

Photographs of the two of them emerging from Mary King's Close, Joe bloody and Frank supporting him, had been on the front page of every newspaper in the country. 'American tourists foil terrorist plot' and 'US heroes save the capital' were among the headlines. They couldn't walk across the street without someone wanting to shake their hands. They were heroes! It was somewhere between really nice and very embarrassing.

But they were now both well-rested and, if they were slightly lightheaded , this time it was the effect of beer, not some maniac's boot, fist or weapon!

A cheer had gone up when they arrived at The Advocate. It was a smart, recently renovated pub just off the Royal Mile. Big, comfortable sofas were dotted around the room. They had recognised many faces when they went in, although the people looked so different out of uniform. Sam had run up to them, long hair flowing around her shoulders and fitted top showing off her athletic but curvy body. For a second, Frank found himself wishing he was ten years older! She had bought them both their first pints of the night, then introduced them to a bewildering array of fellow cops. They had great fun. A room full of slightly drunk crime-fighters talking and laughing about chases and captures, crimes and narrow escapes- what wasn't to like! The boys felt very at home.

Then an unexpected figure walked into the pub. Kay. The brothers exchanged a look as she walked up to them.

'I just wanted to thank you.' She said.

Fenton Hardy had pulled some strings and found out who had bought Kay's family farm. Frank had contacted them. It turned out they did intended to move to Achshin later that year. But, as luck would have it, they knew little about farming and were very keen to keep Kay on to manage the land. She would be well paid and they had offered to build her a cottage. She could stay in the house meantime. Midnight, of course, could stay too. It couldn't have worked out better for Kay.

'You've both done so much for me. You've changed everything.' She smiled. There was a newfound confidence about her. She seemed older, more together. 'Joe. Say 'no' if you like. Any chance of a quick chat outside. In private?' She turned and walked towards the door.

Joe looked at Frank. Frank smirked and shrugged unhelpfully.

Joe coloured a little, then followed her out into the night.

Kay pulled Joe down the steps of the pub and into a dark corner in the street.

'This isn't another trap, is it?' said Joe, only half joking.

'Sort of.' Kay whispered, pushing her body against his and wrapping her arms around his waist. He gasped, feeling his body respond to her. He started to speak. She put a finger on his lips. 'Joe, I know you don't want….anything….from me. But there's one thing I want from you… a nice memory. The ones I have with you are all tainted and that's not how I want to remember you. OK?' Joe nodded silently. Her scent was intoxicating. She reached her face up towards his, searching for his lips. They kissed, long and deep, Joe's good arm tight around her shoulders. She stepped back, stroking his face gently. 'Thank you Joe Hardy. If you ever change your mind…if you want more…you know where I am.' She walked away into the night.

Joe stared after her. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get his blood pressure back down to something approaching normal. He wondered for a moment if he was being responsible or stupid. He felt a sudden twinge of guilt, then started as he realised he was thinking of Vanessa, not Iola! Maybe he was ready to move on...Shaking his head and smiling, he walked slowly back into the pub.

Frank had made his way to a big, soft, brown leather sofa which had been vacated. He had his feet up on the low table in front of it and was looked into his pint glass thoughtfully, as if considering the potent brown brew. Joe walked over and plonked himself at the opposite end of the sofa, mirroring his position. A random passing police officer put a fresh pint down on the table in front of him, giving him the thumbs up and a pat on the back. Joe accepted it without question.

Frank smiled at him wryly. 'Thought you might be a bit longer than that, Joe!'

Joe shook his head and shut his eyes, groaning. 'I must be some sort of saint. In different circumstances…..'

'I know. Cheers, Joe!' said Frank, raising his glass. Joe picked up his pint and leaned over from the other end of the sofa, lifting his glass to meet Franks. 'Cheers.' Their glasses clinked together.

Frank turned to look at Joe. Joe looked back at him. He held his gaze and smiled. Frank knew- this was the moment to push for their partnership.

'You know something, Joe?'

'A couple of things. Which thing do you mean?'

'Even when we're barely talking, we're still a pretty good team.'

Joe looked down at his feet, but he was still smiling.

'Joe. Can we have a proper talk now, about what we want to do? The one we should have had to start off with. And can we both be entirely honest?'

Joe looked up, serious. 'Yeah. But you go first.' He sounded apprehensive. Frank had to get this right.

'OK. This is what I want. Really and truthfully. I want to be a detective. I want to be your partner. I want to go to college first and study something that's going to help us. Probably criminology and some sort of applied IT. I don't care where I do it as long as it's somewhere good…but I'd rather go somewhere with you.

You had me worried for a while. I started to think maybe we were too close, that it wasn't healthy. I couldn't think of anyone else who has a relationship like us. Then I spoke to a cop. About good partnerships. And I realised…that's what we have! I have to remember not to treat you like a kid who's about to fall apart anymore. We have to move beyond that. I need you to you know we're equals and that there's nothing unhealthy about us supporting each other when bad stuff happens. Nothing! And I think it's crazy to let our partnership go, even for a few years. We work so well together. We know each other, we can depend on each other, we can trust each other and we catch bad guys like no one else can. That's what I want, Joe. You and me, working together, wherever we go, whatever we do. So….is that what you want too?'

He stopped, holding his breath. He'd given it his all.

Joe's face was unreadable. He bright blue eyes bored into Frank's brown ones. 'But what about Callie? I don't want you to miss out, you guys are so good together. She's right, you should get married, have kids. You'd be a great dad!''

Frank smiled. 'I do want those things, but we're waaaay too young for that! Me and Callie did talk about it when we were first going out, but I think I was talking further in the future than she was….. I do hope I can work things out with her, but if not there are a lot of girls out there. There's only one of you. I phoned her while you were sleeping. Joe, I told her _she_ has to decide. I told her I will make more time for her, but you're part of the deal or there's no deal.'

'How did she take it?'

'She said she has to think.'

'Are you okay?'

'About Callie? Yes. Am I okay in general? I might be once you answer my question. _Is that what you want too_?'

A broad smile split Joe's face. A _proper _Joe smile.

'No'

Frank's jaw dropped. 'Joe…..' he started.

Joe cut in 'I mean yes! But there's no point us studying the same thing. How about same college, different subjects so we're contributing more between us, broadening the scope of our work?'

'You mean it!?' Frank exclaimed. Joe nodded.

Frank put his beer down so fast the head dribbled over the side. He threw himself at Joe and hugged him wildly!

'Down boy! Not in public!' Joe said, laughing, then hugged him back. They both sat back. 'Frank, sorry I've been such an idiot.' Joe said, suddenly quiet and serious.

'Don't start that crap. We were both idiots. I know your intentions were good. Can we just agree that neither of us will ever take that sort of decision again before talking through it properly? Please?

'Deal. OK, so you're studying criminology and some sort of applied IT. I'd been thinking about forensic sciences- the non-medical course I mean, maybe with psychology. What do you reckon?'

A voice came from behind them 'You know you can do all those courses at Edinburgh! One of the best universities in the world…' It was Sam, unsubtly eaves-dropping on their conversation and sticking in her tuppence-worth. 'Oh and you could come out with us in your free time. See some more policing, Edinburgh style!'

Frank looked at Joe, eyebrows raised. 'That's something to think about!'

At that moment, Frank's phone alert went off. He had a text. He looked at it then passed his phone to Joe. It was from Callie.

_I'm so sorry, Frank. I've been thinking, a lot. You with no Joe? Not right. As long as I get my fair share of one on one time with you I'll be happy, no wedding ring required! Let's make a go of it! Love you so much x_

The boys exchanged another glance.

'Better get them another pint' they heard Sam say. 'These boys have some decisions to make!'

…

THE END

PS Obviously that's not a proper ending... this story was the first of a series I did set in Scotland, one or two of which might be presentable. And, yes, of course, Frank and Callie stay together and Joe and Vanessa get together, but the four of them have some adventures in and about the places I know in Scotland before returning to the good old US. Can't beat putting the characters you love in the places you know!

PPS Sorry again to Callie.

PPPS Sorry if you wanted the boys to go their separate ways. It's all about the brotherhood for me...Well, that and the Joe whumpage...

Anyhoo, signing off for now,

Swifters.


End file.
